


In between

by Lady Destinee Zara (LadyDestineeZara)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Amnesia, Blood and Gore, Child Neglect, Death Themes, Gore, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Memory Magic, More characters in the future chapters, Murder, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Psychosis, Rape, Things will start slowly and then the dark stuff will show up, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDestineeZara/pseuds/Lady%20Destinee%20Zara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland was dead.<br/>But then he woke up in the middle of an unknown forest with no memories of his life.<br/>Every step he took only bred a new question.<br/>Every answer he got bred new questions.<br/>Who should he trust?<br/>And Who was he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello there =D
> 
> Welcome to this fanfic!
> 
> First of all: Hetalia doesn’t belong to me. If it belonged, I would be the Queen of the world. Literally.
> 
> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> Now, to the story!

_“Police! Freeze!”_  
_Shots._  
_An excruciating pain._  
_Moans from pain._  
_Pain._  
_Pain._  
_More Pain._  
_And lots of blood (not all of his own)._  
_At least it was only physical pain…_  
_He slid down the wall._  
_He was getting cold._  
_He closed his eyes._  
_He died._

* * *

Arthur Kirkland woke up startled and immediately touched his chest.

  
He sighed in relief.  
  
Thank Lord! He was alive.

\- Are you sure about that? - a voice asked.

The boy looked around looking for the source of the voice.

It was a black crow that sat on a branch above him.

He blinked, staring at the crow.

\- What the fuck…?

The crow stared back.

\- Are you alive, Arthur Kirkland?

Arthur frowned.

\- Of course that I am, you stupid bird!

The crow chuckled.

\- Then how did you get here?

Arthur opened his mouth to answer but no words left his lips.

He didn’t have words to explain.

He didn’t have an explanation.

The crow chuckled again.

\- And where is “here”? – it made some creepy noises – Who are you Really, Arthur Kirkland? And, my final question, why are you here?

The crow opened its wings and flew, leaving Arthur alone with only doubts.

The first thing Arthur realized was that he didn’t remembered a single fuck thing about his life.

He opened his mouth in disbelief.

How could that be possible?

Arthur remembered who he was, but he didn’t remembered anything about his life, his family, his friends, his likes and dislikes… It was almost as if his mind had been reset.

Almost.

His only memory was he being killed by the police.

But he was alive now!

Arthur touched his chest one more time where the bullets had pierced him on his memory just to make sure he was in one piece.

But there were no signs of any injury in any part of his body.

What the hell?

The second thing Arthur realized was that he had no idea of where he was.

It looked like some kind of forest.

There was lots of crooked tall trees, with their trunks looking like weird laughing faces staring at Arthur. It was unsettling to say the least or fucking creepy to be precise. The leaves were all in a variety of dark green shades, making those woods even more dark than usual. The earth was covered with the trees’ roots, as if they were fighting for space to grow.

But the most disturbing part was the silence.

It was quiet as if all the animals were dead.

Some shivers ran down Arthur’s spine.

It was a cloudy day, with the air full of humidity. It was possible that it would rain later and that the day would become dark earlier.

The crow’s questions crossed Arthur’s thoughts.

Where was he? How did he get there? Why was he there?

Who was Arthur Kirkland?

He had no answer for any of those.

“Ok” he thought “Calm down, mate. What do you know?”

He started to try to think about himself.

Arthur knew his own name.

That was a good start, he guessed.

He knew he was male. At least he felt like male (Arthur touched his groin just to make sure, although having a penis could not mean anything. He may be trans and not know that).

Oddly enough, he knew his own age: he was sixteen. How he knew that was beyond Arthur.

Another thing that he just knew was that he was British. English to be more precise. That could explain his own accent.

That was all he knew about himself.

That and the fact that his only memory was a memory of him being killed by the police.

Arthur gulped and close his eyes to try to analyse the memory better.

In his memory, it was night.

The darkest hour.

He was holding a knife.

He was dirty with blood.

Not his blood.

_“Police! Freeze!”_

He turned around with his hands on the air.

They were pointing guns and flashlights to him

He couldn’t see their faces.

But he was not scared.

He was relieved.

_Shots._

Loud bangs that pierced him even before he could realize what was happening.

At first he felt the bullets entering his body. Then…

_An excruciating pain._

_Moans from pain._

His moans.

_Pain._

_Pain._

_More Pain._

_And lots of blood (not all of his own)._

His blood mixed with the others blood, the blood that was already on his clothes.

Arthur remembered thinking “that is disgusting” about his blood mixing with the other’s.

_At least it was only physical pain…_

What the hell did he meant with that?

He stumbled.

His back touched the wall

_He slid down the wall._

It hurts…

God! It hurts!

_He was getting cold._

But he was not scared.

He was **relieved**.

_He closed his eyes._

It was almost over now…

_He died._

Arthur opened his eyes again.

He was panting and damp in cold sweat.

That was some real intense memory.

He wondered if that would give him nightmares at night.

Whose blood he was covered in?

Where he was when that happened?

When that happened?

Why did the police shot him?

What did he do?

Why he was not dead?

How the fuck did he get on that forest?

And why the fuck he was there?

Arthur stood up from the forest ground.

He needed answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the story:
> 
> I started this story with no clear idea of what to do and no clear idea on where to finish it.
> 
> I don't even know if I'll finish it or drop it!
> 
> I mean, I have some plot planed and I have an ending.
> 
> But all in between is an adventure!
> 
> I mostly started writing to try to distracted myself because I'm obliged to spend the holidays on my parents house. They are not easy people (they are kind of abusive and etc and I have no ways/financial conditions of saying no).
> 
> So the story have some dark themes ahead.
> 
> Things will get deeper and I hope that creepier.
> 
> Well, I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter =3
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	2. The First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur start to walk around.  
> He founds a barn, a small massacre, two memories and too many questions.  
> And that is just the first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> Now, to the story!

Soon enough, Arthur found a trail in the middle of that dark forest. Without any other clue, he decided that it was for the best if he followed it.

There was two sides of that trail that he could go. To his left he would go to a lighter part of the forest. It seemed a little less oppressive than the rest of those woods. To his right he would go further into the deep forest, entering a darker and scarier part of the woods.

Another shiver ran down his spine.

Well, he didn’t even knew where he was.

It was no good to go around the darkest parts of those woods for now (or ever).

Arthur took the lighter path and followed it, the unsettling silence following right behind him.

The unnerving situation was making him become cold and uneasy.

Mostly cold.

There was no sun to keep him warm and the humidity of the forest wasn’t helping at all.

He tried to keep warm by rubbing his own arms with his hands, praying that the friction would help him to keep warm. Because his clothes seemed to not help at all.

Arthur was wearing a larger t-shirt, jeans that were oversized (held on his waist by an old and worn belt) and shoes that were thin and over used. Those were not comfortable clothes for him. He wondered if those clothes were even his. Had they given those clothes to him when he got on that weird forest or was he already using them?

He didn’t want to remember his only memory again so soon to find out.

But the thing was: his clothes were not comfortable.

He was oddly used to them, but they still weren’t comfortable.

Nor they were warm.

He was getting cold.

Arthur hoped that he was wrong and that the rain that the grey clouds were announcing wouldn’t really fall.

It would be a nightmare to get cold and wet on that moment.

The trees’ roots made it difficult to walk around the forest, even on that trail. His shoes weren’t helping at all either. Arthur almost tripped many and many times.

He was about to lose hope that that trail would lead to somewhere when he heard a bird singing in the distance.

It was a beautiful sound in the middle of that uneasy silence. It broke the tense spell that the quietness casted upon the woods.

Arthur smiled and sighed in relief.

So that forest was alive after all.

He kept following the trail.

A butterfly flow nearby and a brown bunny showed his face before running scared.

That made Arthur frown.

Did that means that deep in the woods was a dark place?

If it was the case, why in all places he woke up there?

Again, he didn’t have any answer.

So Arthur just kept walking.

The roots and trees started to become sparse and sparser as Arthur walked on the trail.

Soon enough he reached the end of the forest and stepped into a large green field.

The field was green with tall grass and had a few trees here and there. There was some constructions on the field, but they seemed old and abandoned in the distance. Although the field was larger, it seemed that the forest formed a ring around it, with some part of the forest invading the field.

Without having the trail to follow, Arthur decided to try to look into the closer building that he could see. It was an old barn, not too far away, maybe 700 metres.

Arthur was thirsty. Maybe the farmer who owned that barn could give him some water. And maybe they could tell the English teen where he was.

With high hopes, he walked towards the barn with a small relieved smile.

The barn was old and made of wood. The yellow paint was starting to peel off the walls. The door was open and there was some metallic noises coming from the inside. That made Arthur conclude that someone was there.

He stopped at the door. There was a large tractor obstructing his view.

\- Hello? Sir or Ma’am? – he asked with a polite smile - Could you help me please?

The metallic noises stopped abruptly, but there was no answer.

\- Sir?

Arthur stepped inside the barn.

The first thing he noticed was the rotten smell. The smell of dead animals decomposing.

The boy covered his mouth and nose, trying to block the smell.

There was a clang and a red fox ran down to outside the barn.

With a dreadful feeling siting on his stomach, Arthur circled the tractor, trying to see where the fox were before running away.

On the other side of the tractor, there was a small massacre.

Three bodies were around the floor. They were gutted and disfigured, laying as if they had tried to fight back their assailant or tried to run.

Intestines and other organs were on the floor far away from the original bodies, as if the murderer had thrown them away while looking for something inside them. They were mixed with lots of the metal parts of the broken tractor.

One person had their abdomen and ribcage opened and the ribs forced apart. Other had been cut in half and their parts were far apart (the ribcage was open too). The third one had an axe craved into their skull and had his back opened just like the others.

All of them were pale and decomposing, showing that that attack had happened days ago.

Blood was everywhere, dirtying the walls, buckets and any other surfaces with brownish and smelly disgusting stains.

Arthur felt his own blood run cold and his stomach started to turn in nausea. He wanted to run, but he was stuck. It was harder to move his own body.

Slowly, with fear and nausea, Arthur took a step back.

And another.

He was trying to go back to where he came from without turning his body.

However, in his third step he slipped on something.

He fell on his butt, using his arms to try to avoid the fall.

His hand landed into the guts of the person cut in the middle.

Arthur eyes went wide.

His face was completely pale.

His breath became short and irregular.

His heart beat fast in fright.

He wanted to stand up and ran.

But his mind had other plans…

 

* * *

  _It was harder to cut a person than what the movies showed._  
_But Arthur did it._  
_He was covered in blood._  
_He chuckled._  
_He touched the face of the man he had just killed._  
_Then he moved the organs of the opened chest around._  
_He chuckled again._  
_"For someone so cold, you have such a warm heart!” he cheerfully said to the corpse._  
_He giggled._  
_He was having the time of his life._  
_He licked the blood out of his hand._  
_Well, two out, three more to go.  
__He grabbed the knife again._

* * *

 

If before that memory Arthur’s body was refusing to move, after that it moved on his own.

He sprinted out of the barn as if the devil himself was after him.

As soon as he was out, he collapsed and puked on the grass.

The taste of bile and acid burned his throat and mouth.

There was nothing on his stomach to begin with, so it ended fast.

Arthur sat on the grass holding himself and moving back and forth.

He was shaking and he felt like he was going to pass out at any minute.

His mind was torn between trying to take a second look at the new memory and trying to block those same new memories (the ones from the barn and the flashback).

In the middle of his hyperventilation another memory came back to him.

 

* * *

  _“Oh, my love! Shhh… Shhh… It is going to be ok, little love! Let’s just count sheep! Come on, you have to be brave, Arthur. Count sheep with mummy. One sheep… Two sheep…”_  

* * *

 

-…Three sheep… - he continued counting with quiet shaking voice - …four sheep… five sheep…

He kept his eyes closed, focusing in only counting imaginary sheep and breathing more steadily.

He lost count some times and had to start over. He didn’t know how much time he spent counting sheep, but that made Arthur calm enough to at least try to make some sense on what had happened.

He needed to analyse the new flashbacks, even if he didn’t want to do it.

He needed clues of who he was and why he was there.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur sat on the grass and decided to begin with the first memory.

He close his eyes and braced himself.

_It was harder to cut a person than what the movies showed._

_But Arthur did it._

His victim laid on the floor.

It seemed to be some kind of basement with only one ceiling lamp lighting the room.

The victim was a man in his late teens, early twenties. His hair colour was something between blond and ginger. He had huge eyebrows. His nose was crooked, as if he had broken it in the past. His blue eyes and his mouth were open in perpetual horror.

Arthur was kneeling beside the corpse

_He was covered in blood._

_He chuckled._

_He touched the face of the man he had just killed._

“Such a disgrace” the Arthur from the memory thought with a small smile “Not so tough now, isn’t he?”

Some crazy need took the killer by surprise.

Did that pathetic being even had a heart?

He needed to find out.

He chuckled. There was only one way to disclosure that.

_Then he moved the organs of the opened chest around._

He found the heart. It was warm and strong. A bull’s heart.

_He chuckled again._

_“For someone so cold, you have such a warm heart!” he cheerfully said to the corpse._

Arthur squeezed it. He knew his victim was dead, but he still wanted to destroy that heart with his bare hands.

But it didn’t matter if he wasn’t able to do it.

The redheaded was dead anyways.

_He giggled._

_He was having the time of his life._

A new need took him.

What his victim’s blood taste like?

There was only one way to disclosure that.

He took his hand out of the corpse.

_He licked the blood out of his hand._

It was disgusting.

How could they even share some of that blood?

He giggled, smiled, and cried at the same time.

_Well, two out, three more to go._

_He grabbed the knife again._

Arthur opened his eyes.

He was shaking.

\- One sheep… Two sheep…

He counted until the 30th sheep.

\- Ok… I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

He closed his eyes again, focusing now on the second memory.

That memory happened way before the memory of him killing that man or the memory of him being killed by the police.

He was young and small. Probably less than ten years old.

Arthur was shaking and having a panic attack. He couldn’t remember what happened, but he remembered showing the same symptoms from that afternoon.

A woman held him.

She was warm, soft and smelled like lavender.

She always smelled like lavender…

His mother.

His mummy.

_“Oh, my love! Shhh… Shhh… It is going to be ok, little love!”_

She patted his back and he hold unto her tightly.

_“Let’s just count sheep!”_

They would always count sheep when he was scared.

_“Come on, you have to be brave, Arthur. Count sheep with mummy. One sheep… Two sheep…”_

Arthur opened his eyes again.

That memory made him feel calmer, cared and cherished.

He couldn’t remember his mum’s face or her name, but he just KNEW that she loved him and that she was a great mum.

How could that little sweet Arthur become that crazy psycho Arthur?

He didn’t wanted to think about his other two memories on that moment. So he focused on that memory of his mother.

He needed strength to deal with his current situation.

There was three dead bodies on that barn and he was completely dirty with their guts.

Arthur almost threw up again by just thinking about being dirty with that.

How could he be so fine with being covered in blood in his memories but he was nauseous with being covered in dead people’s guts?

He stood up in wobbly legs.

Going back to the barn was impossible, but he could walk around and see if he could find some place to clean himself.

Luckily, near the barn there was a farmhouse.

It was small and as old as the barn. A tree had fallen and crashed one of the walls. Spider-webs were present in all the corners and there was dust everywhere. The fence was broken. But other than that, the house seemed ok.

The only faucet that was still working was the one from the kitchen sink. Arthur found some old towels and a bucket and used that to clean himself. Upon some inspection, he found some clothes from the house’s old inhabitants that fitted him better than the ones he was wearing. They were still big, but they were warmer and closer to Arthur’s size. He picked a pair of jeans, a blue t-shirt, a jacket, some socks and a pair of boots.

He was positive that the old owner wouldn’t mind.

The house had some pictures of the family that lived there.

An old couple and their teenager son.

All of them already completely deformed before their murdered had disfigured them.

They had stiches on their faces, weird eyes and small chins.

But they all smiled at the picture.

They were a happy family.

An ugly family, but happy nonetheless.

Arthur stared at the pictures in the small living room and sighed.

He wished he could bury that poor family.

Give them a proper grave.

However, he knew he had no mental condition to go back inside that barn. He probably would only end up with another panic attack.

In the bathroom of the house, there was a mirror. It was dirty and rusty, but it was still possible to see his reflection.

Once again, Arthur felt his blood run cold.

He looked a lot like with the man that he murdered in his memory.

He had blond hair, green eyes and full lips.

But he had the same large eyebrows, the same nose (even if his had never been broken) and the same strong jaw that he man had.

It was impossible to deny that they were related.

Probably they were brothers by blood.

With mortification and horror, Arthur realized that he had murdered his own family.

Why would he do such a thing?

With utter terror and wide eyes, he asked himself the next question.

Had he killed his beloved mum too?

He felt like he would start to panic once more.

Arthur sat on the bathroom floor and counted sheep again.

He was able to calm himself again, but he was jumpier and exhausted.

Maybe he could just sleep there, locked inside the bathroom…

\- Get a grip, Kirkland! – he said to himself – There is no time for this!

Still shaking and a little paranoid, he stood up avoiding looking at the mirror. He left the bathroom and closed the door.

Arthur drank some of the water from the kitchen sink, but he couldn’t find any food.

He needed to move on.

He still needed to find where he was and he needed to find food.

The kitchen clock said that it was already two in the afternoon. He needed to eat (even if his stomach was turning and turning with nausea).

He didn’t want to stay there, so it was best if he used the day light to look for other places.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> Still slow developing. No rush.  
> This chapter was easy and difficult at the same time. I mean, I really want to write, but I feel completely drained and exhausted for spending the holidays with my family.
> 
> Have I mentioned that this story was inspired by two videogames?  
> One of them is "Darkwood" and the other is "Close your eyes" (this one is free on Steam). From "Darkwood" I took the forest and the corpses/more-stuff-to-come. From "Close Your Eyes" I took the idea of a killer in a weird place and the confusion with the memories.
> 
> Of course that I change add a lot of other secret ingredients to make my own plot ;D
> 
> I'm afraid I cannot say much more in fear of giving spoilers.
> 
> Well, I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter =3
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	3. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur still don't undertand very well where he is.  
> And now it is night.  
> And now there are things chasing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Gilbert: APH Prussia
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> Now, to the story!

There were other houses in the distance on that same field. It was like lots of small little farms in the middle of that circle between the forest.

Nothing was planted on them, though.

Just as if everything was abandoned.

For some dreadful moments, Arthur wondered if he would find other small massacres in every single little house.

“Oh God…” he begged in his mind “Please don’t let that be true…”

He was positive that he couldn’t handle to see more death on that moment (or ever).

For his great fortune, the next house was completely empty.

The house was older and more broken than the other.

No people, but no food either.

Not even a good hide out for the rain that was threatening to fall.

The next houses were close to each other. Three of them in a triangle distance from the others.

In the middle of the houses there was an old well.

And near the old well there were lots of people.

Alive people.

Arthur sighed in relief. So, he was not alone there.

It was some kind of fair. People had opened their small shops in wheelbarrows, pushcart, on top of old boxes and on the floor over dirty tablecloths. The people who weren’t selling were with big bags looking at everything.

All the individuals in that fair, regardless of their gender, age or physical composition were deformed somehow. As if they were all Frankenstein monsters made of very ugly people. Just like the family from the barn.

Arthur approached the fair with caution and watched some of the commercial transactions. He was still feeling that sense of paranoia that something dark (the thing that killed that family) was lurking in the corners of his eyes, waiting to attack once more.

Every type of thing was being sold on that fair. From food to garbage. But there was no currency being used. The products were being traded after some negotiation between the sellers and the buyers. There was no equivalence in the trades, just negotiations. Some patrons got products cheaper than others, so Arthur guessed that it was all about reputation. People were laughing and talking, so they all knew each other, at least they had seen each other before.

His stomach was still nauseous, but he was feeling a little more hungry now.

He got closer to the fair slowly.

He definitely wouldn’t blend in. His face was flawless when compared to all those weird people.

Just as he thought, all the conversation stopped when he got there. Everyone in the crowd stared at him. They were measuring and rating him from the top of his head to the sole of his feet.

Arthur tried to give them a warm smile, but he was still feeling nauseous and now anxiety was eating him up.

“They already hate me” his mind though with sadness.

People restarted to talk, but quietly now. And they were still staring and glancing at him.

That made him self-conscious of his appearance and made him wonder if he was still smelling of dead bodies guts. He tried to made himself smaller when he walked, wanting to disappear.

He looked around the products, but he had nothing to trade. He could have picked something from the dead family’s house, but he didn’t know that it would be necessary.

He eyed the shop that was full of bread and cookies of an old woman who wore a red hair scarf.

God… Now he was fully hungry.

When was the last time he ate?

The woman noticed him and glared.

\- Hey! Get lost, stranger!

She throw a stone in his direction.

Arthur dodged with easy.

However, the situation was somehow too familiar to him…

 

* * *

_Arthur dodged the empty bottle that was thrown at him._  
_“YOU COME BACK HERE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”_  
_But he ran before the Man could call for his back ups._  
_He run to his most recent hiding spot._  
_He was terrified._  
_Please… Please… Don’t let them find him…  
__Please! He was scared! Please!_  

* * *

 

Arthur tripped in his new memory and in some kind of stone.

He hit the ground with his back and his head.

His eyes filled with tears.

People around him chuckled. Some even laughed.

That hurt more than the fall itself.

He was hurt, he was feeling drained due to that new memory, and now he was feeling humiliated by the laughing.

Arthur stood up, fighting with the tears and keeping a glare to everyone around him. He was determinate to keep as much dignity as he could.

\- You ok, _junge_?– a voice asked.

He glared at the man.

\- I’m fine. – he answered harshly.

The man chuckled. He was wearing a hoodie, making it hard to look at his face (only his mouth was visible, showing that he was an albino), jeans and two gun holsters on his legs. He had two pistols. Probably loaded.

Arthur was already shaken. Being confronted by someone armed was not doing any good for him.

However, he refused to show weakness near anyone, specially that weird guy.

He puffed his chest to try to look bigger and not afraid, even if his hands were shaking.

\- Leave me alone!

The man looked at him from top to bottom before laughing.

\- I liked your attitude, _junge_! What is your name?

\- I’m not telling you!

\- Oh really? What about I trade that information with you _junge_?

The man had a small shop over a purple picnic cloth.

He was selling weapons and only weapons. There were knifes, guns, bullets, nail guns, bows, arrows, brass knuckles and any other stuff that could be weaponized. A small yellow bird was playing on top of all that deadly things. Most people was looking at the shop in awe, as if they all wanted to buy something. The man’s bag that was near his feet seemed to be full of goodies from trades.

Arthur glared.

\- You don’t have anything that I could possible want.

\- Is that so? Wait until nightfall then.

The English teen couldn’t help his curiosity.

\- What happens when night falls?

The man smirked.

\- You will see… But I advise you, and that is for free, to be within four walls and a roof when that happens, _junge_.

\- Why the fuck you keep calling me junge?

The man chuckled again.

\- That is German for “boy”. I don’t know your name yet, _junge_.

\- And I will not tell you!

Arthur turned around to try to leave.

\- What if I trade this information for food?

The teenager stopped on his tracks and stared suspiciously to the weird man.

The albino smirked and picked his bag. He took a red and shiny apple and a small sandwich from the inside.

\- An apple for first name, sandwich for last.

Arthur tried to keep a poker face, but his stomach betrayed him and grumbled on that same moment.

He grimaced and the man grinned.

\- Come on, _junge_. Take a seat with me. – the man sat on the floor near his shop – Eat and talk to me. I’ll give you water for free and I promise not to bite.

He patted the earth by his side.

Arthur sat cautiously.

\- Why do you care so much about knowing me? – he asked warily.

The man kept his grin.

\- Because I like knowing everyone.

\- You can’t possible know everyone.

\- As a matter of fact I do. It is good for business to have information of who is around. And you are not from here. So, who are you, _junge_?

Still warily, Arthur stared at the man.

\- I don’t know who you are either.

The gun seller shrugged.

\- Fiiiiiiine, I’ll go first. Name is Gilbert, but everyone calls me Gil.

\- No surname?

\- _Nein_. You are still too stranger for that.

\- And you want my full name?

Gil smirked again.

\- I’m paying for it, isn’t that right?

Arthur groaned.

\- I’m Arthur.

As soon as he said that, Gil threw the apple to him. Arthur catched effortlessly.

The albino smiled.

\- See, that was not difficult, _junge_.

Slowly, Arthur bite the apple. It was sweet and delicious. He moaned a little in appreciation.

\- Thank you, Gilbert.

\- No need to thank me. I’m just that awesome. But what about the last name?

The teenager finished chewing and swallowing the bite he had on his mouth before answering.

\- Kirkland.

\- Ah, Arthur Kirkland! – Gil gave him the sandwich – Nice name… Nice name… And how did you get here, Arthur Kirkland?

He offered a water bottle to the teenager. Arthur took that gladly with the food.

\- I don’t know, I just woke up in the forest with no memories of how did I get here.

\- Hum… interesting…

The teenager swallowed what was on his mouth.

\- Where are we anyway?

Gil shrugged.

\- Somewhere in between. I’m not sure myself, _junge_. All I know is that people cannot leave.

\- Why not?

\- Well, you see, the forest have some pretty nasty stuff. – he stared directly at Arthur. It was unsettling not to see his eyes and still be stared like that – Stuff that will kill anyone who ever tries to leave. We sometimes find the bodies. Not a nice vision.

Arthur swallowed in fright this time.

\- Not even with all your weapons?

Gilbert laughed.

\- _Junge_ , I don’t want to leave. If I wanted, I would already be out of here.

Arthur frowned.

\- Why the fuck you don’t want to leave this place if it is so scaring?

\- Hum… Let’s say that I’m here to watch what will happen with a big bag of popcorn.

\- And what will happen here?

Gil smirked.

\- You will see, Arthur Kirkland. You will see.

The way the albino said that made shivers ran down Arthur’s spine.

Gilbert smiled at him.

\- But don’t worry, I really liked you, _junge_. So I’ll give you a discount.

The teenager raised an eyebrow.

\- A discount?

\- _Ja_. There is this guy on this land. A French guy. Blond, about your age and pretty handsome. He makes the best cakes on the town. I’ll will give you… - Gilbert looked at his goodies – An bow and quiver if you get me one of his cakes.

Arthur frowned.

\- Why don’t you deal with him yourself?

\- Oh, but he is not talking to me right now. Most unfortunate thing.

\- Why not?

\- Because he is a stubborn _dummkopf_ who refuses to accept my help, even if I am awesome.

Arthur shrugged.

\- I don’t see why a bow and a quiver would matter to me.

Gilbert smirked.

\- Wait until nightfall.

The sun was closing to setting.

People start to leave hurriedly. The buyers just left without a word and the sellers started to pick his goodies.

Gilbert sighed.

\- Good talk to you, _junge_ , but I have to go.

\- Wait! – Arthur bit his lips – Can I go with you?

Gil barked a laugh.

\- _Nein_. I’m sorry, _junge_ , but I am a lone wolf. You will have to get by on your own. – he smiled at Arthur – and I REALLY suggest you to find a house without a red rag on the front door to hide.

\- Why not a house with a red hag?

\- Those are the ones already taken. Red is the colour of the week. – he finished putting his goodies on his bag – Better find some walls to hide behind before nightfall. Barricade all the possible entries with wood or stone… And pray for the morning light. – he chuckled - I hope you survive the night, kid. See ya!

And he walked away waving.

The sun was almost down.

A shiver ran down Arthur’s spine again.

Even if there wasn’t any danger after the nightfall, it would be best to find shelter.

Just in case.

The barn house seemed the better option to the English teen. It was better equipped and it had nice beds. He needed a place to sit and think about his new memory anyway.

He started walking back to where he had come from.

It was getting darker and colder.

Arthur shivered and tried to walk faster. He didn’t want to run. There wasn’t any need.

Was it?

When he was middle way, the sun finally set.

Something growled from the forest.

That growl made Arthur’s blood run cold.

Terrified, he looked to the woods.

A creature made of shadows, grotesque, amorphous and malformed, with doll heads and arms all over its body. All the dolls eyes sockets were empty, filled with that dark material that was the monster body.

Empty eyes staring at everything.

Staring at Arthur.

A terrible sense of fear and despair took Arthur, like a cold-clawed hand constricting his throat.

The creature was not alone.

Other grotesque eldritch monsters, made of the same shadows but with different obscene macabre parts.

They all seemed to be starting at him from the woods in the last lights of the dusk.

Suddenly the creature with the dolls faces opened a preternatural huge mouth, full of sharp teeth, on his abdomen and he screamed.

\- Á̸̷̧͏ŕ̀̕͞͠t̡̨͘͜͞h̡̕u̵͏r҉̸҉ ̷̸̧̀K͏̢i̵͠rk̀l̴͢a̡̕ń̶͘͞d̴̶!

The monster body formed clawed arms and legs and it started to run after Arthur.

So did all the other monstrosities.

They were all chasing after Arthur.

Arthur instincts kicked pretty fast.

He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

He wouldn’t dare to look back.

Their daemoniac screams were enough to make him run forever.

He could feel by the way the hair at his nape was standing that the monstrosities were getting closer.

\- Á̸̷̧͏ŕ̀̕͞͠t̡̨͘͜͞h̡̕u̵͏r҉̸҉ ̷̸̧̀K͏̢i̵͠rk̀l̴͢a̡̕ń̶͘͞d̴̶!

Arthur could feel tears fill his eyes.

He kept running.

His only chance was to run.

He felt a rush of wind behind his back.

As if the creature had just tried to grab him.

The monstrosity screeched.

Arthur feel tears run down his face.

Finally, the old barn farmhouse was right in front of him. Only a few metres away.

He sprinted.

His life depended on that.

For his great fortune, he had left the front door open when he left early that same day.

He busted through the door and closed it immediately.

Locked it.

He used is body weight to hold the door.

Because the creatures screeched again and hit the door.

Again.

Again.

And again.

After three frightening bangs, they stopped.

Everything become silent.

Arthur was panting.

He was damp in cold sweat and he just realized that he had pissed on his pants out of fear.

The teenager was a shaking mess.

He could feel that his hands were cold and he was having troubles standing.

He crouched on the floor.

\- I’m safe… I’m safe… I’m safe… - he desperately tried to convince himself.

He did what Gil had told him to do. He was behind some walls.

\- I’m safe…

To try to calm himself, he decided to take some pragmatic choices.

He needed to clean himself. Again. And he needed to change clothes.

\- Ok. I can do that.

Arthur tried to smile.

He was alright now.

Everything would be fine!

However, on that same moment he heard a low growl coming from the living-room.

Arthur almost screamed in fear.

He put both of his hands over his lips to hold his screams.

He whimpered and shook like a leaf, crouched on that small hallway in utter terror.

He heard the growl again.

Slowly as he could (whimpering and all) he crawled until the living room doorway and looked inside.

In the dark of night, he could see the shape of one of those monstrosities that chased him.

The hole in the wall.

That house had a hole in the wall!

How could he be so stupid!

He was not safe there!

He was crying and shaking.

The creature was heavily breathing, growling and sniffing the air.

Sniffing for a prey.

Sniffing for him.

Arthur retreated to near the front door.

The sound of a window crashing was heard. It came from down the hallway, from the dead couple’s bedroom.

They were entering the house using any entry that they could find.

Arthur was still holding his mouth, looking everywhere for a way to escape.

To his ultimate luck, near the entry there was a small closet for coats and boots.

The key was on the door.

In a heartbeat, he threw himself into that door, grabbed the key, entered and locked the door.

He heard a screech from outside and loud bangs on the door.

Arthur sat on the floor, hugging his legs and fully sobbing.

The banging continued.

With tears in his eyes, Arthur grabbed the only thing he could possible use as a weapon on that closet (an old broom).

The bang didn’t stop.

The bang didn’t stop for HOURS.

Arthur was sobbing.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted his mummy.

But in his mind, he had one big certainty:

He was going to die that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> This story REALLY are sounding alot like a videogame xD  
> I even gave Arthur a sidequest! xD  
> Meet the French guy, get a cake, give it to Gilbert.
> 
> Humm.... I wonder who this "French Guy" is 83c
> 
> Anyway, Francis/France will show up next chapter for sure =D  
> YAY!
> 
> The description of the creatures (specially the one that I focused more, the one with the dolls parts) were a mixture from the creatures from the game 'Alice: Madness Returns' and the game 'Fran Bow'. I'll try to get more creative on the next ones, but the core of the monsters is that dark goo/nightmare fuel.
> 
> I hope I had been succesful by making Arthur seems scared and a shaking mess *-*  
> He already was under a lot of anxienty and pressure. The monsters just pushed him through the edge <3
> 
> Oh, well, tell what you people think =D I love coments! Pleeeease? =)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter =3
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	4. Out of the closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur survived the night.  
> And he may or may not have made an ally.  
> A handsome ally.  
> Who knows? Not him, that is for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Unknown blond man: APH France
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> Now, to the story!

There was no way to count time on that dark closet.

There was no direct light.

There was no window.

Only the noises from the creatures from outside.

The monstrosities banged the door for what seemed to be hours.

Arthur lost count on the 17th bang.

He was too shaken to count that.

He was too shaken to count at all.

Not even sheep he could count on that moment.

He clutched the old broom tightly.

Not even that frail stick was making him feel any better.

He was sobbing and scared.

Arthur tried to hold into that sole memory of his mother for some comfort.

Someone cared for him…

Someone cherished him…

Someone was waiting for him…

And then, his mind betrayed him and made the memory of him killing his brother broke that delicate spell that he was trying to cast.

He had giggled when he licked his own brother’s blood from his hands.

That thought only made him cry and shaken harder.

The bang on the door continued.

\- Please… Please… Please… - he begged.

He didn’t even know what he was begging for.

But the bang continued.

For what seemed to be hours.

And hours and hours.

Arthur cried for most part of it.

Suddenly the banging stopped without any apparent reason.

Arthur still refused so move.

He just sat there, crying (now quietly).

The smell of fungus on that closet and the smell of his pissed pants mixed in a stinky disgusting smell that polluted the small ambient. He was wet and he felt disgusting.

But most of all, Arthur felt terrified.

Hours passed and he still refused to move.

What if they were outside, just waiting for him to get out?

That thought make a couple more of quiet tears leave his eyes and a quiet sob leave his lips.

No! He couldn’t leave that closet!

That would bring his death!

He was scared!

He needed to stay there as long as the door holds!

Please! Someone save him!

Time passed.

Lots of time.

And Arthur wouldn’t dare to move.

He stared at the door for hours.

Waiting for it to restart to bang.

Waiting to hear the screeches again.

Waiting for the door to break and dark teeth to engulf and kill him.

After a long time, he heard noises on the hallway.

Footsteps.

He could hear them like a nightmare.

Slowly.

Closer.

And Closer.

He trembled.

The doorknob turned.

Something was trying to enter the closet.

Arthur clutched the broomstick.

He cried softly.

The doorknob stopped to turn.

He sighed relieved.

But his relief was short-lived.

He heard something start to mess with the lock.

Arthur’s eyes went wide.

Were those creatures capable of pick locking?

He shook like a leaf in a windy day.

A click that was loud in the small closet was heard.

A soft “ahá!” sound came from the corridor, but Arthur’s despair didn’t let him hear that.

The door opened.

Out of instinct, Arthur stood up, released a war scream and raised the broom like a sword.

He hit the intruder with all his strength left.

\- _AIE! Ne me frappez pas!_

The old broom had broken in the first hit, but Arthur wasn’t thinking and hit again, still screaming.

The man in the corridor, the one that had opened the door, grabbed the stick and held Arthur’s other arm.

\- EASY, _LAPIN_! EASY! – he said.

Finally, Arthur looked to whom he was attacking.

A man, probably in his late teens, early twenties, was staring surprised at him. He was white, had a slim figure, an oval shaped face, nice cheekbones, long waved blond hair (kept in a low ponytail), stubble, a little beard on his chin and the most gorgeous blue eyes Arthur could possible imagine.

He spoke with a soft French accent.

\- Easy, _Lapin_. Easy. – he repeated in a soothing tone, as if trying to calm down a scared animal.

Arthur frantically tried to look around.

\- But! The creatures…!

\- They are gone. – the man gently let go of his strong grip on the teenager’s arms.

He made Arthur drop the stick and held his hands tenderly.

\- It is daytime, _lapin_. You are safe…

Those words seemed to hit a strong string on Arthur’s mind.

His eyes watered again.

He sobbed.

Safe!

He was safe!

The Frenchman frowned in worry.

\- _Lapin_?

But Arthur just started to cry and cry and cry again.

It was over!

He survived!

He was safe!

His knees gave in.

He didn’t hit the floor just because the man held him.

The Frenchman held him while Arthur cried.

Arthur held him as if his life depended on that.

The man was his rock.

His safe place. 

 

* * *

_The darkest hour._  
_He was holding a knife._  
_He was dirty with blood._  
_Not his blood._  
_“Police! Freeze!”_  
_He turned around with his hands on the air._  
_They were pointing guns and flashlights to him_  
_He couldn’t see their faces._  
_But he was not scared._  
_He was relieved._  
_Shots._  
_Loud bangs that pierced him even before he could realize what was happening._  
_At first he felt the bullets entering his body. Then…_  
_An excruciating pain._  
_Moans from pain._  
_His moans._  
_Pain._  
_Pain._  
_More Pain._  
_And lots of blood (not all of his own)._  
_His blood mixed with the others blood, the blood that was already on his clothes._  
_Arthur thought “that is disgusting” about his blood mixing._  
_At least it was only physical pain…_  
_He stumbled._  
_His back touched the wall_  
_He slid down the wall._  
_It hurts…_  
_God! It hurts!_  
_He was getting cold._  
_But he was not scared._  
_He was relieved._  
_He closed his eyes._  
_It was almost over now…  
_ _He died._

* * *

 

For the second time, Arthur woke up scared with that memory of himself dying.

His hands went automatically to his chest, to look up for the gun wounds. Again, there was none.

He panted, still shaken from everything. But it was daytime and there was no sign of the monsters from yesterday. That made him calm enough to try to count sheep.

\- One sheep, two sheep…

He counted still laying, trying to hold anything that he could of his mind before dealing with his predicament again.

After the 23th sheep, he was calm enough to try.

Arthur was still exhausted in more ways than physically tired. His emotions had forced him to his limit. His mind was playing tricks on him with those new memories (he still had one yet to be analysed). And he hadn’t slept or eaten enough.

If he had the opportunity, Arthur would lay on that bed forever, but he had to deal with his situation on that weird land.

Or die.

He shivered and counted sheep again (just little 10 sheep. He was imagining them to be small and white. More like little lambs than sheep).

\- Ok, Kirkland. Now get a grip. – he said to himself sighing and siting.

This time Arthur was laying on a bed. He recognised the bed of being from the dead teenager from the dead family on the barn.

He was only with the blue t-shirt that he took yesterday and his briefs. He was covered with a blanket and there was a glass of water on the nightstand.

Someone had cared enough to take away his dirty clothes, put him on bed, cover him and let him sleep.

Somehow, that situation seemed completely odd to happen to him. Arthur couldn’t explain why, but it was extremely unexpected to receive help.

He remembered the last night with a shiver.

Arthur needed to count sheep again to get another grip on himself.

But he was able to record that he was rescued by a man.

Blond.

Amazing blue eyes.

Handsome as hell.

Arthur blushed and groaned.

\- Great, now I am gay and I didn’t know.

Apparently, the unknown man had taken him out of the closet in more than one way.

Not wanting to deal with his newly discovered sexuality, Arthur focused on the situation again.

The man had taken him away from the closet. He had spoken in French.

Was he the French guy that Gil talked about?

Arthur’s last memory was collapsing on the Frenchman’s arms.

\- Ok, now what? – he asked himself.

He sat for some minutes, listening the sounds around the bedroom.

There was some thunders here and there, and it was a little darker on the outside than the last day. So the rain was going to fall anytime soon.

However what picked his attention was the noises coming from inside the house.

They were not scaring noises. They were domestic. Normal. Common. But considering that that place was full of death and horrible creatures, he decided to not relax just yet.

There was someone in the kitchen messing with the pots. It sounded a lot like as if a person was cooking. That same person was singing while working. The English teen couldn’t understand the words.

Arthur groaned again and stood from the bed. He picked another pair of pants and a pair of boots. He picked the heaviest object he could find (the nightstand lamp) just in case.

With a final deep sigh, he steeled himself the better he could to deal with whoever was on the outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> Only when I was in the middle of this chapter I realized that I should had put that with chapter 3 '-' I mean, it is just the resolution of the first night, not too much new information.  
> I just hope I got Arthur's fear right. I still feel that I was too dry on my descriptions ._____.
> 
> There is Francis, though xD
> 
> I'll introduce the Handsome Devil on the next chapter ;D
> 
> This chapter was hard to write. It is my family. Again.  
> I started writing this to distract myself from the nightmare that is my parents house (fortunately, I'll return to my home on February).  
> Some days it is just a lot more difficult than others...
> 
> I still want feedback though.  
> If I don't get enough feedback, I'll probably will drop this in February.  
> The story is long, I probably won't be finished by February. 
> 
> I don't ask much, just feedback. :3
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter :3
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	5. Devil may care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur met Francis, a French scavenger with a devil-may-care attitude.  
> But maybe, just maybe, the devil may care for something after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gil (mentioned): APH Prussia
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> Now, to the story!

He walked slowly to the kitchen.

The Frenchman was near the oven, with his back turned to the doorway. He had an apron tied on his waist along with a machete. There was a backpack by one of the kitchen chairs, probably owned by the blond man.

Whatever the Frenchman was making, it was smelling incredibly good. Arthur licked his lips out of hunger. His stomach clutched, demanding food, but he acted with caution.

The Frenchman turned to check one of the pots and noticed Arthur standing on the doorway.

He turned around smiling.

\- _Oh, bonjour_! You are awake! I was going to let you sleep a little bit more.

Arthur didn’t moved, just frowned.

\- Who are you? – he asked, trying to sound confident, still holding the lamp – And  why you are not deformed like all the other people?

\- That is not a polite thing to ask!

\- Do I look like I care?

The man shook his head.

\- Oh, _merde_! I saved a little punk!

\- Well, I didn’t asked to be rescued by an old frog!

The man frowned, and for one second Arthur thought he would pick his machete.

But he laughed instead.

\- You really should know how to pick your fights, _lapin_. And I’m 19! I’m hardly old!

Arthur didn’t know what “lapin” meant, but he really didn’t like the sound of that (oddly too personal).

\- Don’t call me that weird French stuff.

\- Oh. – he raised a perfect eyebrow amused – So how should I call you, _lapin_? Eyebrows?

The English teen glared at him.

\- Fuck you.

The Frenchman sighed dramatically.

\- That is a pity! I was hoping to share my lunch with you, _lapin_. – he shrugged, still full of drama – _Bien_ , more to me to eat dinner!

Arthur’s stomach growled out of hunger.

He groaned.

\- FINE! Sorry for insulting you. – he stopped for one second before adding - …frog.

\- Well, _rosbiff_ , we can restart by telling our names. Because I don’t share my precious meals with unknown people.

The English teen stared at the Frenchman before answering.

\- I’m Arthur. Arthur Kirkland.

The man turned his back to Arthur for one second to wash his hands on the kitchen sink. He quickly dried them on the apron before smiling and offering his right hand for a handshake.

\- I’m Francis Bonnefoy,

Arthur couldn’t help but smiling too.

\- Nice to meet you, Francis.

\- And it is nice to meet you, Arthur. Now put that lamp away and sit. Lunch is almost ready!

\- I don’t take orders from you. – Arthur said, siting none the less, but still with the lamp nearby.

\- You are all rainbows and sunshine, aren’t you? – Francis asked with irony and an amused smile.

Arthur smiled too and shrugged.

\- I do my best.

The Frenchman laughed warmly and the English teen felt warmed as well.

“Careful” he thought “he still can be dangerous. Don’t relax too much, Kirkland”.

But when the man put a plate of well cooked chicken breasts with mushrooms sauce, golden potatoes and cooked asparagus in front of him it was extremely difficult to resist the temptation of relaxing, eating and enjoying the warm company.

\- What kind of meat is this? – he asked still warily.

Francis blinked surprised.

\- That is chicken, _lapin_. I thought that that was obvious. Why do you ask?

\- I didn’t see any animals here.

\- Well, there is a woman on south that raise chicken. The vegetables I bought on the River Market and the mushrooms I grew myself.

\- River Market?

\- Yes… You are new here, aren’t you?

Arthur blushed and started to eat to try to hide his embarrassment.

It was delicious.

He couldn’t help himself: he ended up with his mouth a little bit too full every time.

\- I just wake up in the middle of that stupid forest yesterday. – he answered the previous question after swallowing.

\- You too? – Francis asked.

The English teen looked up to the Frenchman again. He seemed to be genuinely surprised.

Could Francis be on the same predicament that Arthur was?

The teenager felt his heart become a little bit lighter.

He was not the only one!

\- Uhag? – he asked with his mouth full.

Francis stared at Arthur intensely.

\- I mean, I woke up here one day with close to no memory of my life. I almost died on the first night too.

Arthur swallowed what was on his mouth.

\- That was what happened to me!

For some reason, he felt bad for not telling the part that he remembered being killed by the police before getting there.

And he felt suspicious.

Had Francis been killed before getting there?

Had Francis killed someone before getting there?

Was he as psychotic as Arthur was in his memories?

Should Arthur believe in any word that Francis said?

Francis smiled and looked at him pleased.

\- This is so amazing! We must be two of a kind!

Arthur smirked, still trying to keep his suspicious to himself.

\- The expression is “one of a kind”.

Francis shook his hand dismissively.

\- _Peu importe_. We are unique.

He stared at Arthur with an intensity that made the younger blush.

Arthur tried to hide his embarrassment by looking away and drinking some of the water. He could still feel the blue eyes on him.

It was a tad unsettling, but extremely flattering.

The Frenchman hemmed.

\- Anyways, so you don’t have a hideout yet? – Francis asked with a polite smile while putting some food on his mouth.

\- Not yet. I’ve just almost been killed last night. I didn’t exactly had time to explore.

The older chuckled.

\- Fair enough. At least you did well. You find a nice closet and waited until morning. – he frowned while chewing – How did you knew you had to hide and not run?

\- A man on the market near here, Gilbert, told me to hide behind four walls, so I did.

Francis’s expression become gloomy.

\- Oh, so you met _him_. – he said displeased.

Arthur frowned.

\- Yes. He mentioned you.

The Frenchman rolled his eyes.

\- Of course he did. _Bâtard fouineur_ …

The way he said that term in French made it clear that he was insulting Gil.

Arthur kept his frown.

\- Why are you so angry with him?

\- Because that nosy bastard should know best than to interfere with my affairs.

\- But he didn’t seemed to type to interfere, it would be bad for his business. What the hell are your affairs that he is being nosy to?

Francis smirked.

\- My, my… Aren’t you pretty nosy yourself, _lapin_?

\- I’m just curious. Specially because he is trying to use me to get something from you.

\- Oh. – the Frenchman blinked unimpressed – What is it?

\- A cake. He wants to exchange one of yours cake for a bow and a quiver with me.

Like a real Parisian, Francis shrugged with deep indifference.

\- If you really wants that bow and quiver, I can give you the cake. – he smirked – BUT you will have to work for me.

Arthur nodded.

\- Sounds fair. For how long?

He put down his knife and fork now that he was finished with his food.

Francis scratched the beard on his chin.

\- I think three days of work sould be enough to pay for a whole cake. – he smile – After that I guess we can be partners!

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He still was suspicious about Francis.

\- And what exactly do you do?

Francis smiled proudly.

\- I’m a scavenger. I pick interesting things and sell them to other people.

\- So… You basically steal.

The Frenchman shrugged.

\- I prefer the term “taking for those who will not use anymore”. Like this house.

Arthur was horrified.

\- You are going to steal this house!?

\- Don’t say as if you haven’t done that yourself. – he pointed to Arthur’s new pants.

The English teen blushed, but kept the frown.

\- That was different! I wasn’t going to sell it! I needed it!

\- And I need other items that are in this house. Besides, they probably were pretty stupid for getting themselves killed.

Now Arthur was angry.

\- Those people are DEAD! Their bodies are still unburied in the barn! You have no shame in insulting and stealing from the DEAD!

Again, Francis gave him the Parisian shrug.

\- Why should I… Even more important, why should YOU care? – he asked with a nonchalant and bored tone – Better they than us.

Arthur clenched his fits and stood up.

He didn’t knew why, but that devil-may-care attitude really messed with him.

He started walking away.

\- Hey! Where are you going, _lapin_?

The Englishman turned around, full of rage.

\- Stop calling me this weird French gibberish! And you can shove your cake into your ass!

\- Arthur, calm down…

\- Go to hell! I care about the people that lived here! I’ll bury them and then I’ll get by on my own! Good-bye, scavenger frog!

Francis seemed completely thunderstruck by Arthur’s answer. His eyes were wide and his mouth was open in an incredulous “o” shape.

But he recovered fast.

\- FINE! Go have fun with your corpses and hunger, _rosbiff_!

Arthur walked away with loud steps and slamming the front door.

He was grateful for all Francis had done, yes. But there was something that gave him a bad feeling that if he didn’t gave that family a proper burial, he would be acting evilly somehow.

The memory of his mother danced in his mind and he didn’t know why. Maybe something that she had said was what was motivating him to honour the dead.

But he just couldn’t remember just yet.

Arthur stared at the barn again, steeling his heart with all the strength he had left.

If he thought straight, he would just know that he was in no condition yet to face the dead bodies. He was still shaken from last night and his memories.

However, his stubbornness took the best of him.

He almost marched to inside the old barn.

The smell was even worse than what he remembered.

He covered his nose and his mouth, but it wasn’t enough.

As if the smell had entered his mind forever, and no matter what he would do he wouldn’t be able to shake the smell off his nose.

Ever.

Arthur used the collar of the t-shirt to try to protect his nose while he searched for a way to touch the bodies without dirtying his hands (like some gloves or something of the sorts).

He had no hope in distinguishing which organ was from who.

Should he try to burn the bodies instead of burying them? So he wouldn’t mess up with the viscera.

God! That smell wasn’t letting him think straight!

It was making his eyes water, but he kept going.

Arthur found some gardening gloves. He put them on and carefully he walked to the nearest corpse (the one that was laying on their stomach and the axe on their head).

He cringed.

Should he remove the axe from the head or that would be disrespectful?

He really didn’t know.

Arthur stared at the corpse feeling disgusted and conflicted.

In the end, he decided that it was best to take the axe off the head.

Nobody deserved to be buried with the weapon that murdered them.

Arthur crouched beside the body and tried to remove the axe carefully to not destroy the corpse even more.

The smell was even stronger near the decaying body.

He was holding the head with one hand and trying to take the axe off with the other.

However, the corpse was in a worse shape than what he had previously imagined.

Instead of taking the axe out of the head, he took the head out of the neck.

Arthur stared horrified to the dead head bounded to the axe in his hand.

Now he could identify it.

It was the woman’s head.

She was already decomposing, but it was still possible to distinguish the horrified expression that she died with.

As if she was pleading for her life.

As if she was begging for mercy.

It was a macabre expression.

Especial with her dead eyes…

 

* * *

 _“Arthur! Please!” she begged “You promised to spare me!”  
__The middle of her legs were bleeding.  
__He grinned like a mad man.  
__“I lied.”  
__He craved the hunting knife in the middle of her chest.  
__Once.  
__Twice.  
__Three times the lady she would never be.  
__She stared at him horrified.  
__If it was possible, his grin become even bigger.  
__“How does it feel, ‘sis’, to be lied to?”  
__She coughed blood.  
__Her blood dirtied his clothes.  
__A new stain of blood for his collection.  
__She tried to say something, but it was lost.  
__Arthur watched with pleasure the life burn out behind her eyes.  
__He giggled.  
__“And now” he said to the corpse “to the main attraction of the night”._  

* * *

 

 Arthur dropped the poor dead woman’s head.

His hands were shaking.

He was shaking.

He wanted to get out!

He needed to get out!

His legs almost gave up.

But he needed to get out!

With wobbly legs, he walked out of the barn.

As soon as he was out, he vomited again.

He bend his body to throw up on the grass, and when he was over, he just crouched there, in front of his own vomit.

Oh God… he was a monster!

He was such a disgusting psycho.

A monster…

\- ARTHUR!

Suddenly, Arthur came to his senses again.

Francis was holding him. He was frantic.

Arthur was crying and shaking. His breathing was completely irregular and he felt like he would faint at any minute.

The Frenchman hugged him tightly.

\- It is ok, _lapin_. It is ok... I got you… I got you… - Francis said with a gentle voice.

Arthur held him back.

He smelled like sweat, but it was oddly comforting.

The teenager started to count sheep.

\- One sheep… Two sheep… Three sheep…

At first, Francis stared at him as if he had gone completely mad, but them he gave Arthur a tender and encouraging smile and counted sheep with him.

They counted sheep until Arthur had calmed down enough.

It was already drizzling.

He was feeling exhausted again.

As if even moving was difficult.

He just wanted to lay on the grass and start to decompose already.

But he had a mission there on that barn.

\- Come on, _lapin_. Let’s go…

\- I need to bury them.

Francis rolled his eyes and snorted.

\- Leave those idiot corpses be!

Arthur grabbed Francis shirt with desperation.

\- Francis, please…

The Frenchman’s mouth opened and closed some times, like a fish out of water.

He stared at Arthur intensely. The English teen didn’t know how to interpret that look in Francis’s eyes.

Finally, he closed his mouth, his lips in a tight line.

He nodded.

\- Wait here for a moment, Arthur.

Arthur sat on the floor while Francis got back into the farmhouse.

The teenager didn’t knew how long the other man was away. It was as if he didn’t have sense of time at all. To Arthur a long time passed, but at the same time, it was as fast as a blink of his eyes.

As if something was seriously broken inside his mind.

When Francis got back, he was carrying lots of bed sheets.

He removed the gloves out of Arthur’s hands and then walked inside the barn. He was back quickly, carrying two shovels this time.

He gave Arthur the shovels.

\- Dig the graves. I’ll prepare the bodies.

The English teen only nodded. He stood up in wobbly legs once more and picked one of the shovels.

Francis went back to the barn.

Arthur choose the front of the house to dig.

The soil was soft and easy to plunge the shovel.

He was getting wet on the drizzly, but he didn’t care.

He was kind of glad for that monotonous exercise.

Plunge the shovel.

Take the soil.

Throw it in the pile.

Plunge the shovel.

Take the soil.

Throw it in the pile.

Plunge the shovel.

Take the soil.

Throw it in the pile.

As soon as he realized, he was in the middle of the second grave. Both would be at least six feet under.

Francis was back and put a hand on his shoulder to make Arthur look at him.

\- I’m sorry, _lapin_ , but I need help carrying the bodies.

His expression was serious and professional.

Arthur nodded and put the shovel away. Francis helped him get out of the hole.

The Frenchman picked a handkerchief from his pocket and tried to dry Arthur’s tears that were still falling (even if the English teen was unaware of them).

Arthur shrugged and let Francis do as he pleased.

Then they walked together to the barn. The older man was holding the younger’s hand the whole time.

Francis had done an excellent job with the dead bodies.

They were now separate and wrapped in white sheets. They were still smelling, but now there was almost no visible part of organs on the floor.

Three white bundles.

\- You know… This is REALLY a big waste of good sheets. – Francis said, slipping on his nonchalant attitude from before.

Arthur sighed.

He didn’t had the heart to be angry at Francis.

Because, although the Frenchman was still complaining, he was helping Arthur out.

He didn’t have a clue why.

It was not because he care about that family.

The Frenchman made it clear that he couldn’t care less.

But maybe he cared for Arthur.

Just maybe.

The English teen turned and kissed the other’s cheek.

\- Thank you, Francis. – he thanked earnest.

Francis’s face become crimson.

He tried to shrug, but it was not as suave as before.

\- Let’s just carry them already. – the Frenchman said, still blushing, but with his gentle tone.

Arthur nodded.

One by one, they carried the bodies to near the graves.

Together they finished digging the holes, under the rain that was starting to get stronger.

They put the bodies at the bottom of each hole with the most care that they could manage.

\- Go pick some wood for the headstones. – Francis said whiling burying the first one.

Arthur nodded and run to the barn again.

He quickly found some pieces of old wood.

The family probably would use for something else.

Now it would be used as their headstones.

How cruel.

Arthur found some rope too.

Although he was not sure if he was Christian, some wood crosses would be fine.

He quickly did thee crosses and he ran back to the graves.

Arthur and Francis buried the family and put the crosses.

Arthur crouched near the graves for a while. He didn’t care if the rain was soaking him. Francis crossed his arms, but stayed still near Arthur.

After some time, Francis put an arm over Arthur’s shoulder to call his attention.

\- _Lapin_ , we need to go home. The monsters will go out soon.

Home?

Arthur didn’t know what the Frenchman meant with that, but he liked the sound of having a home.

He nodded.

The older quickly ran to the house to pick his backpack and machete (the backpack had its own plastic cover to keep things dry inside). He had a second bag too, probably with items that he already picked from the house.

He held Arthur’s hand.

\- Let’s go, _lapin_.

Arthur looked to the graves one more time, before staring at Francis and nodding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> I decided not to use any translation of the French terms for now. I know that this is a little bit annoying, but the story is being told from Arthur's POV (the narrator is 3rd person, but they follows Arthur's thoughts and impressions).  
> Maybe in the future, when Arthur starts to understand French better, I'll start putting the translation.
> 
> Anyways, I don't speak French. All the French used came from google translator.
> 
> I frankly thought that this chapter was a little rushed.  
> I mean, I can't add much more to it, but I still think it is rushed.  
> I was having a hard time writing it.
> 
> I hope the next will be better!
> 
> And I apreciate peoples opinions on the matter (and ways to improve. I don't want people to tell me how to rewrite this chapter, I want ways to improve to the next ones).
> 
> Any feedback is nice :3
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter :3
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	6. Francis's Hideout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis guided Arthur to his humble home.  
> Arthur was trying to pick up the pieces of his mind and his past.  
> And some new questions arise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gil (mentioned): APH Prussia
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> Now, to the story!

The rain was pouring now, making the two young men completely wet.

Francis leaded the way. He consulted his clock from time to time and looked around frequently. He had a serious expression that Arthur didn’t know how to read.

Besides, Arthur had his own misery to deal with.

Out of the 5 memories that he had, four were horrible somehow, and none of them seems to answer any of his questions.

It was almost if remembering who he was was destroying who he was.

Was he even someone worthy of the miracle of a second chance?

He was starting to believe that he wouldn’t like the answer for that.

Arthur cried quietly, not wanting to upset Francis.

Francis lead them to an area that Arthur had not visited yet.

They were still on the field inside the forest ring, but now they were closer to what seems to be an abandoned village.

Most of the houses were broken and seemed to be empty. Others houses had the windows barricaded with wood planks and other materials.

The majority of the ones barricaded had a red rags and cloth tied up in front of the main door.

 Arthur remembered something that Gilbert told him yesterday (even if it seemed like a week ago due to his mental exhaustion).

_Gil had barked a laugh._

_\- Nein. I’m sorry, junge, but I am a lone wolf. You will have to get by on your own. – he had smiled at Arthur – and I REALLY suggest you to find a house without a red rag on the front door to hide._

_\- Why not a house with a red hag?_

_\- Those are the ones already taken. Red is the colour of the week. – he had finished putting his goodies on his bag – Better find some walls to hide behind before nightfall. Barricade all the possible entries with wood or stone… And pray for the morning light. – he chuckled - I hope you survive the night, kid._

\- There are all these people living here? – he asked quietly, not exactly expecting an answer.

\- _Oui_ , but they are all hiding. The rain will bring the creatures earlier today. – Francis answered nonetheless.

Arthur only nodded.

\- But don’t worry, _lapin_ , we are almost there!

They went to a house that was completely collapsed, destroyed beyond repair. But instead of leading them to the front door, the Frenchman went to a basement door on the lateral of the house. It was locked with a chain and a padlock, and it had a red rag tied up on the handler.

Francis used his key to open the lock and he made Arthur enter the dark basement. He entered the room right behind the teenager and locked behind himself.

It was completely dark inside.

\- Welcome to my humble home! – he sing-song, lighting a flashlight – I’ll start the fire in one second! Stay where you are.

Francis detour Arthur and let the younger shivering on the stairs.

Arthur saw only the flashlight’s light walking around the room until Francis put it on the floor.

The Frenchman struggled to light a match, and then with the match he lighted a wood burning stove. He left the lid to the burning wood opened, so the fire could illuminate the small room with a dim light.

The basement was very small for a basement. It had the size of a small bedroom. It had the stairwell that leaded to the destroyed house in one wall and two doors in another wall.

The wood burning stove was right in front of him, and beside it there was a pile of wood. Right in front of the fire, there was some makeshift cushions and pillows for people to sit. Behind the cushions, there was the stairwell that would lead to the house in the past, but now it was full of trinkets and other things that Francis could possible sell or trade. On the semi wall made by the old stairs, there was a big fish tank leaning on top of an old dinner table (there was mushrooms growing inside). There was some shelves that probably used to store gardening materials and other things like that, but now it was full of stolen goodies.

Francis signed with his hand to Arthur to get closer to the fire.

\- Come here! Come here! Warm yourself near the fire!

Shyly, Arthur walked to near the stove.

Francis smiled and then opened the bag that he brought.

\- I picked some clothes from the dead boy on the farmhouse. They seemed a little big for you, but you can use to trade for better clothes. – he cringed looking at the wet clothes – You will have to borrow some of mine tonight anyway. Those are completely wet.

The English teen only nodded.

Francis nudged Arthur.

\- Come on, take your clothes.

They stayed back to back to each other and undressed.

Arthur dropped the damp clothes on the floor while staring at the fire.

He felt like his mind was full of static.

Empty and disturbing.

But he was more scared of what would happen when the static went away.

So he hold onto that like a frigid blanket.

He heard Francis opening the door and entering one of the two doors.

Arthur stayed there naked in front of the fire with only the static.

Soon enough, he heard the Frenchman’s footsteps.

Francis gave him a bunch of clothes without looking at below the teenager’s neck.

\- Here. You can change here or on the bedroom, _lapin_.

Arthur nodded and walked to the open door. He left the door half open, so he could have some light.

The other room was even smaller than the first. It used to be a laundry, so it had the wash and dry machines, a cabinet and shelves. Francis was using that to store clothes and things that he liked. Arthur didn’t pay too much attention on that moment. The Frenchman had put some old mattress on the floor (with pillows and a blanket) and was using that to sleep.

\- If you need the bathroom, there is one on the other door! – Francis shouted from the basement “living room” – The water is still working!

Arthur nodded before remembering that the other couldn’t see him.

\- Thank you! – he shouted back, his voice sounded coarse and rough.

Francis had given him sweat pants and a white t-shit. It was a tad too big for Arthur, because other young man was older and a tad taller. But it smelled like clean clothes and something that reminded the teenager of Francis.

Fully clothed, Arthur just stopped looking at nothing inside that dark bedroom.

His mind was numb.

His mind was static.

He was numb.

He was static.

\- Arthur?

Francis knocked on the half open door.

\- Is everything alright?

The English teen nodded before remembering again that he was behind the door and the other couldn’t see him.

\- Yes, I am.

\- You have been there for quite a while.

\- Have I?

\- _Oui_. Come here, _lapin_ , please. I have made soup.

Arthur blinked stunned.

Had him stayed there for _that_ long?

He really had lost track of time.

\- Ok, I’m coming.

He walked back to the “living-room”.

The fire was bigger and warmer. The rain was still falling and making noises on the basement’s door. The damp clothes were drying on a clotheshorse near the stove. Francis had put a pot on the oven and now he was stirring the things inside.

The smell is delicious.

He smiled when he saw Arthur that gentle smile of his.

\- Pick a cushion and sit! Dinner is almost ready! Soup of vegetables with mushrooms.

\- I’m not really hungry. – the English teen replied softly sitting on the fluffiest cushion he could find.

\- That was not a question, _lapin_. – Francis answered in a serious tone – You need to eat, so you will eat.

Arthur was too tired to complain.

He just nodded again.

That seemed to annoy Francis.

\- Are you always that submissive? – he asked with irritation in his voice.

The younger bowed his head.

-… sorry.

Francis stared at him for a few seconds before sighed.

\- No, I’m the one sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It is just that… - he messed with his wet hair, as if he tried to think – It is just that it is weird to have you all quiet and obedient after your “fight me” attitude from before.

Arthur shrugged.

\- Sorry… It was a tough day…

\- I can imagine. I heard you screams from the barn, Arthur.

The English teen blinked.

\- I don’t remember screaming.

\- But you did.

Francis took the pot out of the fire, walked to one of the shelves and picked two bows and spoons.

\- You screamed like you were being killed or mauled. – he served the soup on the bows – Then you ran out of the barn throwing up your lunch.

He picked two slices of old bread and offered one to Arthur. He sat in a cushion beside him and started to eat right away.

Arthur hesitate a little before taking a spoonful (it was delicious again).

\- I just… Don’t remember screaming…

\- What happened there after all?

The English teen looked down conflicted.

Dealing with the corpses was horrible, but his memory was ten time worse.

Francis sighed.

\- Ok, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. – he smiled gently to Arthur – Just eat your soup, _lapin_.

The teenager nodded and complied.

The young man kept smiling and started to talk while eating.

\- Do you like mushrooms, _oui_? Because that is basically the only thing I know how to grow.

And he kept talk and talking, mostly about mushrooms, how they eat the dead to become life.

He had a pleasant voice and he knew just the way to make that boring subject become fascinating.

And the good part was that Arthur only had to nod or to hum whenever Francis made a longer pause. On that moment, that was all Arthur would ever want.

As soon as they finished the soup, the Frenchman smiled again to Arthur.

\- I think you need to sleep, _lapin_. You can have the bed today, I’ll sleep here with the cushions. Tomorrow we look for some hygiene items for you on the nearest market.

Arthur nodded again.

\- Thank you, Francis. You are very kind.

Francis beamed.

\- You are welcome, Arthur! Now, go to sleep. You looks like you need it.

Arthur nodded again and simply walked to the bedroom.

He closed the door behind himself and laid on the mattress.

But sleep didn’t come at a light price.

Arthur KNEW that he needed to look at his memories (the ones that he didn’t analysed yet) before sleeping. Otherwise, he would just stay up all night.

He sighed and held the pillow (the one that smelled like Francis the most).

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the unprocessed memory from yesterday.

He was probably eleven on that memory.

_Arthur dodged the empty bottle that was thrown at him._

He had done nothing wrong! Why was the Man mad at him again?

And who was the Man?

His memory was a little fuzzy and he couldn’t see the Man’s face clearly. All Arthur knew was that the Man was someone that had power over him.

Too much power.

_“YOU COME BACK HERE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”_

The Man’s eyes had that wicked fire on them.

The fire that made Arthur reminds of the basement.

Something terrible had happened on that basement. Something that had made Arthur be terrified, almost as terrified as he was when he faced the creatures from that world.

And the Man was moving towards him.

_But he ran before the Man could call for his backups._

Who were the Man’s backups?

His memory didn’t provide an answer.

In complete terror, the boy wondered if hiding would solve anything.

But he didn’t seem to have any other choice.

_He run to his most recent hiding spot._

He was faster than the Man, and the Man was piss drunk and couldn’t run anyway.

He hid under the sink.

Nobody never looked there.

Arthur hid there, holding his knees and crying.

_He was terrified._

He heard footsteps.

_Please… Please… Don’t let them find him…_

_Please! He was scared! Please!_

Arthur took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

He was panting.

That memory had a terrible similarity with the most recent events, and yet it seemed to be even more terrifying than any of those monsters from yesterday.

But how?

How could that situation be even scarier than those abominations that walked at night on that world?

Somehow, Arthur had the impression that the answer involved what happened on that basement of his memories.

He tried to force his memory. Trying to find something new.

However, his efforts were fruitless.

It was as if his own mind was trying to hold that information from him. As if he didn’t had enough material to open his mind yet.

But what did he need to find before being able to remember?

With a shiver he closed his eyes again and turned to his second memory.

The woman was corned in a dark room.

_“Arthur! Please!” she begged “You promised to spare me!”_

She had flame red hair. Her eyebrows were thin, but Arthur knew that it was because she would always had them done (they would be tricky otherwise). She had the same shape of nose and lips that Arthur had.

Another relative.

_The middle of her legs were bleeding._

Oh. God.

What had he done?

His fly was still closed, and he was disgusted by the simple thought of touching her like that, so Arthur assumed that he didn’t rape her.

There was a small razor with blood on the floor. Somehow, Arthur had the impression that the metal object was connected to whatever had happened to the woman.

Her baby blue eyes were filled with terror.

_He grinned like a mad man._

He was taking pleasure on her terror.

_“I lied.”_

He felt terrible good on lying to her. It had some ironical joke there that Arthur couldn’t get simply from that memory. It would require more.

But he still had that triumphant and sadistic feeling.

_He craved the hunting knife in the middle of her chest._

_Once._

_Twice._

_Three times the lady she would never be._

“Never a lady” he had thought “Always a heartless cunt.”.

Why he thought about her like that? Why?

Again, that memory didn’t had all the answer he wanted.

_She stared at him horrified._

She seemed to be catching the joke now, but she didn’t like to be at the other end of it.

What was the sadistic fucking joke!?

_If it was possible, his grin become even bigger._

Her understanding only made her more terrified and that filled him with pleasure.

_“How does it feel, ‘sis’, to be lied to?”_

‘Sis’! So she was Arthur’s sister?

Had he killed his own sister?

_She coughed blood._

_Her blood dirtied his clothes._

_A new stain of blood for his collection._

The fourth stain.

He had killed two siblings.

Who were the other two?

_She tried to say something, but it was lost._

_Arthur watched with pleasure the life burn out behind her eyes._

_He giggled._

He took the hunting knife out of her body and she fell like a broken puppet.

_“And now” he said to the corpse “to the main attraction of the night”._

He opened his eyes, scared and trembling.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to stay alone in the dark anymore.

Arthur stood up and walked to the living room again.

The fire was still tall and illuminating the room.

Francis seemed like had just laid down.

He blinked at the younger.

\- Arthur? Is there a problem?

The teenager fidgeted.

\- Can I sleep here with you? I don’t want to be alone in the dark…

Francis seemed to blush on the dim light. He smiled.

\- Come here, _lapin_.

Arthur complied almost immediately.

He laid with Francis and held him like a teddy bear.

Francis chuckled.

\- Would you want me to sing you to sleep, _lapin_?

The English teen nodded.

Francis sang some pop song in French, like a ballad or something. Arthur couldn’t understand a single word.

But that was all that he needed.

The pop lullaby and that alluring voice among with Francis’s smell and arms were enough to make Arthur forget about his doubts and fears for a while.

He was sleeping on that gentle arms in no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> This story reaaaaaally sounding like a videogame. I mean, Arthur don't have enough to "unlock" his memories.  
> At first the idea made sense on my head, because he need to live through some small detail that will make him remember, but now it sounds like something that he have to "unlock" to go foward on his quest.
> 
> By the way, this chapter is even less edited than before because I'm editing while in pain (I just got my wisdon teeth removed).
> 
> I still want feedback ._.  
> I feel like people aren't liking this fanfic ._.  
> That is making me sad ._.
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	7. A peaceful day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur decided to stay with Francis.   
> And he had a fairly normal day for a change.   
> A good day to learn more about how that world works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gil: APH Prussia  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC. 
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> Now, to the story!

Arthur’s dreams were completely weird.

He fought odd creatures (some like the ones from last night, some different) with a light-saber. At the same time, he had big wings and a hallo. His allies were a demon, twin angels and a shadow of an angel and they needed to destroy that gigantic meat grinder that was eating souls alive.

He woke up blinking.

What the fuck was that dream?

He shook his head to get rid of that weird dream before looking to Francis.

They had slept together.

That thought made Arthur blush.

That was… nice.

Other than his weird dream, the night was quite pleasant.

They were sleeping on top of some cushions and pillows. Arthur had his head on Francis chest, and Francis had one arm around Arthur. The room was dark now that the fire had died down.

Nice indeed.

Arthur just laid there, listening to Francis’s heartbeat and breathing.

A soothing sound that made it easy for him to forget all his worries.

Unfortunately, from the bedroom, an alarm clock started to ring suddenly.

Francis groaned and woke up.

\- _Je oublié que chose stupide_. – he said in slurred French.

He tapped Arthur’s shoulder.

\- Move a little, _lapin_.

Arthur complied, but he had to ask:

\- Why the fuck you have an alarm clock?

The Frenchman dragged himself to the bedroom in the dark and suddenly the alarm noise stopped.

Francis dragged himself back and he sat beside where Arthur was still laying.

\- Hum… - the older groaned, like a sleepy animal.

\- Seriously, why an alarm clock?

Francis sighed.

\- To not waste daylight time. – he groaned again – I’ll start breakfast in a moment…

He was almost falling asleep again.

Arthur rolled his eyes, sat and then nudged Francis.

\- You are sleeping again.

The Frenchman groaned.

\- It is not my fault. The floor is horrible to sleep.

Arthur lowered his head down sheepishly.

\- Sorry…

Francis snorted.

\- That wasn’t your fault. But tonight I’ll have the bed, if you don’t mind.

The English teen shrugged.

\- It is your house after all. – he smiled, even if the other couldn’t see it.

Francis stretched and Arthur could hear his back cracking.

\- I’ll start the fire. – The Frenchman said – I have some eggs, herbs and spices. I can make mushroom omelettes for us.

\- Do you put mushrooms on everything you cook?

The teenager couldn’t see, but he was positive that Francis shrugged like a Parisian again.

\- I’m kinda low of other foods, _lapin_. We can try to trade some items for food today.

He was starting to light the fire again.

Arthur scratched his nape sheepishly.

\- Sorry, I didn’t meant to be rude. It was just that you seemed to use mushrooms for everything!

Francis chuckled.

\- That is the only thing I can produce. I don’t have enough land to plant and I don’t know if I would plant anything if I had.

He fire lighted his new shrug.

\- It is easier to pick things that other people are not using anymore and sell.

\- You really don’t care about stealing?

Another shrug.

\- Most people are dead anyway. You can use the bathroom while I make breakfast. Just put the cushions and pillows closer so they don’t take too much space.

Soon enough, the two of them were eating the omelettes on said cushions.

\- How long have you been here? – Arthur asked intrigued.

Francis shrugged again.

\- A while. I stopped counting.

\- Do you know why we are here?

\- _Non_ , _lapin_. I was more worried about surviving.

\- But you don’t want to know?

\- Does it matter?

Francis stared at him with intensity in his eyes. That made Arthur shiver in both worry and flattery. The Frenchman was indeed a handsome devil.

The cautious solution would be to drop the subject and let things slide. However, after last night, Arthur was feeling too secure to let that go.

\- Of course it does! What if we are in the wrong place?

As soon as that word left Arthur’s lips he realized that he gave too much information.

All he know was that Francis was like him and he just woke up there on that place in between the evil woods.

Francis could not remember a thing about his previous life.

Or he could remember everything.

Arthur didn’t know what option would be worse.

Had Francis been killed before getting there?

Had Francis killed someone before getting there?

Was he as psychotic as Arthur was in his memories?

Should Arthur believe in any word that Francis said?

He didn’t know Francis at all.

Not yet.

Even if he wanted to trust him, he was not sure if he should.

But the damage was already done.

Francis raised his perfect eyebrows.

\- What do you mean by that?

Arthur hurriedly said:

\- Nothing!

He tried to restart eating to avoid eye contact.

The Frenchman, however, didn’t seemed that willing to let the matter go.

\- No, really. What do you mean with that?

\- Nothing! Just drop it.

\- You obviously meant something.

\- No I didn’t!

\- Yes you did!

For one second Francis’s face showed comprehension, as if he had deduced a tricky puzzle. Then it become blank without any kind of expression.

\- You remember how you came here.

It wasn’t a question.

His eyes were intense, as if they were looking inside Arthur and were analysing everything. The English teen felt threatened for the first time since he met the Frenchman. At the same time, he felt like he was naked in front of the other.

\- No I don’t!

\- So why you are all worked out about the reasons why you are here? – Francis asked softly, still analysing Arthur.

Shit!

Without knowing what to do and without finding a good excuse, Arthur decided fast for some edited version of the truth.

\- I remember dying, ok!? I remember being killed and then walking up here!

Now Francis seemed really surprised.

\- You remember something about your previous life?

\- Don’t you?

\- No, not at all, _lapin_. – Francis stared at him – I just woke up here one day with no memory at all. I just knew my name, my age and that I am French.

Arthur paled under that stare.

He was in deep shit, wasn’t he?

An awkward silence followed.

\- So… - Francis started, trying to sound casual – What do you remember?

\- I don’t want to talk about it. – Arthur was quick to reply.

Francis shrugged indifferently, but his eyes revealed a very different emotion.

With an annoyed sigh, Arthur decided that the truth was the best solution there (at least the part that involved Francis).

\- Look, I don’t trust you. I appreciate all that you have done for me, but we just met yesterday so I don’t know you and I don’t trust you. So, seriously, fuck off if you think I’ll just share such a personal memory as the way I died.

Francis blinked surprised before breaking into an amused grin.

\- You realize that you are at my house eating my food, right?

The English teen shrugged (trying to mock Francis’s Parisian Shrug).

\- Fight me.

The Frenchman laughed.

\- _Un tel lapin fou_.

\- Why the fuck you keep me calling “lapin”? What does that even mean!?

\- It means “bunny” and, well, you came scared from a dark hole and I didn’t know your name, so you needed a fitting nickname.

Arthur glared.

\- I’m not a fucking rabbit, frog!

\- What should I call you? _Sourcils_? – he grinned – That means “Eyebrows”.

\- Fuck you, Francis.

Francis laughed and Arthur couldn’t help but smile himself.

After breakfast and some small talk, the Frenchman stared at Arthur intensely again, but this time with a smile.

\- So, what is your next move, _sourcils_ [French: eyebrows]?

\- Probably hit you for calling me that.

The older laughed.

\- _Non_ , I mean, what you are going to do to survive in this land?

Arthur blinked.

\- I thought I should work for you…

\- Oh, sure! We can stick together. Two strangers in a weird land. You may even trust me someday.

He chuckled before smiling gently and adding:

\- But I don’t want you to feel pressured to do it. There are other options to survive and I can provide them for you.

\- Oh. – Arthur blushed under that tender smile – I hadn’t thought about it…

\- That is ok. I just want to make sure that you are not feeling forced to stick with me. – he smirked – I prefer if you stick with me for my beautiful face.

Arthur snorted and smirked too.

\- It won’t be for your froggy personality, that is for sure.

Francis sighed dramatically and put his hand on his heart, feigning being hurt.

\- _Aie_. You wound, me, _sourcils_ [French: eyebrows].

Both chuckled.

\- But, about your proposition of being partners…

\- I never said anything about being partners. – Francis smirked – It is more like you being my employee, and will take only a percentage of our profits.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

\- You are an ass. But, yes, I take the offer. Sounds alright, even if you are a thief.

\- I’m a scavenger! That is different!

\- Whatever. As long as we only take from the dead, I think I’m fine with it.

Francis smiled tenderly again and offered his hand to Arthur to shake.

\- Do we have a deal, _sourcils_ [French: eyebrows]? To work together as long as we only take from the dead?

Arthur smiled too and shook his hand.

\- Deal!

\- So, the first thing we must do is to grab you some clothes, some that fits you! Pick the ones you like best, the others we are going to trade. Luck for you, all the clothes on that house were in good condition! We will get a nice price for them!

Arthur did as he was told. He end up with one pairs of jeans that weren’t too big, four t-shirts that fitted him better, a flannel shirt that he liked too much to trade, a big and warm jacket full of pockets, socks and underwear (“You won’t find any new underwear anywhere” Francis had said “Take these that are less spent”). He had the boots from yesterday.

The rest of the clothes were put on a bag that Francis was carrying.

When both of them were ready, they opened the door to the outside.

The burned village had change completely in the morning light.

Many people were walking around, mostly going to what seems to be the main street, where a market was being set.

\- Welcome to the Flag Market. – Francis presented, nudging him to move forward.

The main street started at an old road that came from the field and ended in a building that seemed to be the old Mayor Hall. There was a small square in front of the old Hall (“the Flag Plaza”) that had some trees around it and a big flagpole with a red flag on the middle of the square. The street and the square were full of mud from the rain of yesterday.

The area around the plaza and the main street were full of market stalls and improvised form of shops. Some were still opening for business, others were already in full throttle.

All the people in the market had that deformation pattern that the people around that land seemed to have. But other than being extremely ugly, that didn’t seemed to disturb them.

“They probably don’t even see this as ugliness” Arthur thought, “I’m probably weird for them too. Maybe they see me and Francis as the deformed ones”.

People looked funnily at the duo, but there was no whisper this time, to Arthur relief.

Some seemed to know Francis well.

\- Hey, Frenchie! – a vegetable dealer shouted with a smile when they passed by – You owe me a jar of mushrooms, you smug asshole!

\- And you owe me a bag of carrots, you old bastard! – Francis replied with another smile.

\- Good morning, Francis! I’m glad to see that you survived the night! – a woman shouted to them from her stall.

\- _Bonjour_ , Madame White! Glad to see you survived too!

\- Morning, sir Francis! Who is your friend? – a black boy that was trading bottles of milk asked when they passed.

\- _Bonjour_ , Johnny. This is my friend Arthur! – Francis answered, taking an empty bottle from his bag and giving it to Johnny.

\- Nice to meet you sir Arthur! I hope you survive the night!

He gave Francis a new bottle of milk and then he kept walking.

Arthur raised one eyebrow.

\- “I hope you survive the night”?

\- That is a local way to wish the best for a person. – Francis clarified – Some people don’t get to see a new dawn, so it is common courtesy to wish for people to survive the night.

The Englishman blinked.

\- Oh… Makes… sense… It is weird, but it makes sense.

The older one opened the bottle and took a slip.

\- Do you want some milk?

\- Shouldn’t we keep it for breakfast tomorrow?

\- We can buy more after we buy you clothes. Johnny’s family like me, so they will make a fair price.

\- Why do they like you so much?

\- I helped them find the right material to fortify their cow shed after a big storm almost got them to lose their farm. So they always give me a free bottle of milk and the occasional piece of meat when they have an ox.

\- Hum… Sounds like a small price for your help.

\- It is not. In this land, food, especially animal derived food and wheat, is one of the three most precious thing to trade. One of the three most valuable commodities.

\- If food is one, what are the other?

\- Gasoline and proper weapons.

\- Gasoline?

\- _Oui_. Many houses have gasoline powered light generators, and, obviously, the few working tractors and other vehicles need it as fuel to work. There are two brothers down on the south that have a small and old as balls machine that extract the oil. They then refine and sell the gasoline, and other people just re-sell it. – he grimaced – The most bastard duo you will ever meet.

\- What about the weapons?

\- Proper weapons, _sourcils_ [French: eyebrows]. That means firearms, bullets and the occasional proper blade.

\- But aren’t things safer during the day? – Arthur asked feeling a little frightened.

\- More or less… - Francis sighed – The big monsters only leave after dusk, but there are some smaller ones that seemed to be unaffected by light. So it is better to always be prepared.

Francis tapped his machete fondly. Arthur wondered how many times that blade had saved the Frenchman already.

He picked the milk and took a sip. It was strong, sweet, and delicious, even if Arthur preferred to take milk with tea.

The older smiled.

\- We are here!

They stopped in front of a stall full of clothes. There was some changing rooms made of cloth beside it and a small trunk behind. A white family of five (the husband, the wife and three daughters) worked there.

The older woman was fat and looked very pretentious with her small piercing eyes (they reminded Arthur of a weasel) and crooked face. He leaned on the stall to look at them.

\- Well, well, well. What do we have here? – she smirked – Francis Bonnefoy in the flesh! And his date of the week. How adorable.

Arthur blushed and frowned, not knowing if he should be offended or not.

Francis seemed to be unfazed.

\- Madame Weaver. Nosy and completely missing the point, as always.

\- Says the man who seduced my three daughters for a discount.

\- Says the woman who told their three daughters to try to sleep with me for a discount.

The three young women blushed.

Francis smiled and blinked at them.

\- Although, they are lovely for sure.

They blushed even more and smiled. One of them giggled.

Arthur raised one eyebrow but decided to comment only later.

Mrs. Weaver glared at her daughters.

\- Get busy girls! Now!

The girls quickly obeyed and Francis smirked with triumph.

Now Mrs. Weaver glared at him.

\- What do you want, scavenger scum?

\- To negotiate, of course.

\- Like hell I’m going to negotiate with you! Go away!

He bowed in mockery.

\- As you wish, Madame.

And he started to walk away with a small smile.

Arthur followed with a raised eyebrow.

\- What was that?

\- Business, _monsieur sourcils_ [French: mister eyebrows].

\- But she will not negotiate with us now!

\- I wasn’t negotiating with her.

Francis looked back and blinked again to the middle daughter of Mrs. Weaver. She blinked back.

Arthur was agape.

\- You sly dog! You really slept with her for a discount!

\- Actually, _non_. I slept with her to piss her mother off. No one likes that old weasel, especially her daughters. After that, the beautiful lady offered to do business with me for a fair trade. I don’t have a discount, I just have a fair opportunity to do business, instead of being shooed away by Madame Weaver. – he smirked – Besides, we both had a good time that night. And on the morning after. And in the afternoon after.

Arthur blushed like a ripped strawberry.

\- Too much information, perverted frog!

Francis laughed.

\- Ok, Ok. I’ll keep the fun details to myself. But now we stay close to the Weavers stall. It won’t take longer to the old weasel to go to take a nap.

\- You know that we could go to other stalls, right? Other people sell clothes too.

In fact, there were at least three other smaller different stalls that were selling clothes.

\- They don’t have as many options as the Weavers have, nor they have the best quality. But if you see something that you like on these stalls, just let me know and we trade something for it.

\- Ok, thanks.

\- Look what we have here! – a vendor said near them.

Arthur looked down to find Gilbert selling weapons there. He still used the hood over his eyes and his little yellow bird was sitting on his shoulder. At least three people were analysing the merchandize, but somehow Gil was capable of eyeing them and looking at the walking duo at the same time.

And nobody seemed willing to try to steal from the albino.

\- I see that you survived, _junge_ [German: boy]!

Francis glared at him.

\- What are you still doing here?

\- I don’t know what you are talking about. – Gil smirked.

\- _Casse-toi_. – the Frenchman said, and by his tone it was not something good – Let’s go, Arthur.

\- Let the boy decide, Francis, if he want to stay or if he want to go.

Arthur eyed Gilbert who was innocently dealing with his customers and then he looked at the angry Francis.

He tried to keep a diplomatic smile.

\- I won’t take long, Francis. I just need to talk to Gil. Could you give us some minutes?

Francis directed one of his intense stares (that time it was more like a glare) to the hooded albino.

\- Don’t take long.

He took a few steps behind and stood there, still glaring.

Gilbert whistled impressed.

\- In less than two days you already have the Frenchie on a leash?

Arthur rolled his eyes.

\- He is not on a leash. He is just worried about me.

\- Such a small time for such a big worry, don’t you thing, _junge_ [German: boy]? Don’t that makes you wonder about his inner motivations?

Part of Arthur knew that Gil was right; the same part that still didn’t trust Francis completely.

But another part was desperate to believe that people could still be good just for the sake of being good.

He hesitate to answer, but decided not to reveal his distrust to Gilbert.

He didn’t trust him either.

\- Surprisingly, people can be good, you know.

The albino chuckled.

\- You are right about it, but you don’t seem to be so certain of that.

\- What the fuck does that even mean? Fuck you.

Gilbert grinned.

\- I really like that shiny personality of yours.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

\- Anyways, I thought a little and I decided that I don’t have any needs for a bow and a quiver. I don’t know how to use a bow.

\- Oh. – Gilbert smirked – And what you need then, Arthur Kirkland?

Somehow, that question seemed to be even deeper than simply weapons.

Arthur tried to ignore that and focused on looking at the other products.

\- Maybe some kind of firearm?

\- Há! Nice try, _junge_ [German: boy], but a cake don’t buy a firearm.

\- Ok, maybe a knife?

\- You mean like a hunting knife. – he picked one from his stack – Like this?

As soon as Arthur saw the hunting knife it was like an alarm started in his head.

He had used a hunting knife to commit the murders.

Four of them.

The fifth one was by rope.

He just discovered that and that simple new knowledge made him shiver in fear and anxiety.

He couldn’t even think in touching that knife.

\- Maybe another type of blade? – he asked and his voice trembled for one second.

Gilbert smirked, as if he knew exactly what was going on Arthur’s head.

\- Very well, Arthur Kirkland. Maybe an axe then? It is pretty useful.

The English teen thought for one minute about it.

Although an axe could be used to kill, it could be used to cut wood. And if Arthur had any saying in the situation, he would use that axe ONLY for cutting wood.

\- An axe would be just fine.

\- Ah, you have demands, _junge_ [German: boy], so have I. If you want this axe – he tapped a red axe with his finger – you are going to make that Frenchie over there bake a cake of your favourite flavour and give it to me.

\- But I don’t know what my favourite flavour is!

\- Then you have two problems, _junge_ [German: boy]. You have to figure that out AND make Francis bake.

Arthur groaned.

\- How can you possible fucking know what my favourite cake flavour is!?

He just grinned and stared at Arthur with that unsettling hooded stare.

\- So, do we have a deal, Arthur Kirkland?

It was the second odd deal that Arthur was doing that day, and it was only morning.

Such weird people.

\- Deal. I’ll shake your hand if I ever got that said cake.

\- Fair enough, _junge_ [German: boy], fair enough. I’m here on this market every Wednesday, and on the Three Houses Market, that other market where we first met, by Mondays. Or other markets on other days of the week. You know where to find me.

\- Why don’t you stick to one place?

\- I like to see different markets, _junge_ [German: boy]. It is good for business.

Francis touched Arthur’s shoulder.

\- We have to go.

\- Oh. Ok.

Gilbert grinned.

\- See ya, _junge_ [German: boy]. I hope you survive the night.

Francis hurriedly them back to the Weavers stall.

Mrs. Weaver was sleeping on the trunk cabin. Mr. Weaver was nowhere to be found.

The three daughters were running the show now.

The middle one smirked when Francis showed up.

\- Monsieur Bonnefoy. – she said, mocking a French accent – Such an honour so see you here.

The Frenchman bowed in mockery.

\- Myrtle, _ma belle fleur_. – he kissed her hand – You grow in beauty every time we see each other again.

\- Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Bonnefoy. – she smiled – I’m vaccinated against your devilish charm.

He shrugged, smiling too.

\- Can’t blame a man for trying, can you?

Arthur rolled his eyes and hemmed.

\- Could you two keep the sexing up on other time, please?

She laughed.

\- Who is your new boy-toy, Francis?

The English teen blushed in anger.

\- I’m nobody’s “boy-toy”.

She chuckled and looked at them smugly.

\- I like him. – she winked at Francis – Keep him.

\- Fight me! – Arthur said with anger.

Francis laughed.

\- I intend to keep him indeed. As my employee.

\- Oh! – she changed her expression to a professional one – I though you two were here just to chit-chat, not to do business for real.

\- We are here to negotiate indeed, _ma belle_. – the Frenchman said putting the bag with the clothes over the stall – My apprentice is new on this land and is in need of clothes that fit him. We thought that these ones will be a fair trade.

She nodded approvingly looking at what they brought.

\- Good stuff, as always. – she smiled at Arthur – Follow me, mister…?

\- Arthur Kirkland.

\- Nice to meet you, Mr. Kirkland. I’m Myrtle Weaver and I’ll help you find nice clothes.

Myrtle quickly found out what size Arthur was (probably due to her experience) and soon enough made him try many different clothes. He ended up with four pair of fitting and resistant jeans, ten t-shirts with different colours and/or pictures, six good button shirts, a green hoodie (that Arthur liked so much that he didn’t want to take it off), other two jackets, three pairs of sweaty pants, two long shorts, another pair of boots and a pair of running shoes. The rest of the clothes on the bag were traded for towels and a blanket.

Francis and Myrtle keep arguing back and forth about the trades until they reached an agreement that both accept.

She smiled at the end of the whole trade, while the Frenchman finished stuffing Arthur’s new clothes on the bag.

\- Good doing business with you guys! I hope you survive the night!

\- Hope you survive too, Myrtle! – Francis answered before looking at his watch and hissing – _Merde_! We are going to be late!

Arthur raised one eyebrow.

\- Late for what?

Francis held Arthur’s hand and started to drag him back to the Flag Plaza. Almost everyone was going there too. The English teen raised both of his eyebrows. What was going on?

\- Today is Wednesday, _sourcils_ [French: Eyebrows], and on Wednesday the City Council will change the colour of the flag for the colour of the week.

\- Stop calling me that, frog. And City Council?

\- _Oui_ , a council made with all the alive citizens who likes to discuss politics and stuff like that. They basically will study the situations and make the laws. I’m not so sure about it. It seems really boring and we are foreigners  anyway.

\- So why this change of the colour of the flag so important?

\- Did you noticed that every inhabited house have a red rag on the front door?

\- Yes. – he paused – Gilbert said that it is the colour of the week.

Francis grimaced at the albino’s mention, but didn’t addressed it.

\- _Oui_. We use that to know which houses are occupied and which houses are… un-occupied.

The younger one gulped, understanding the euphemism.

\- So we change the colours of the rags on the doors once a week, to know which houses are still occupied.

They have reached the square.

The place was completely full of people. Apparently, EVERYBODY was there to see the changing of the flag.

A group of people walked to the flagpole and took the red flag down. The plaza went silent. It was almost like a solemn moment.

Then they hoist the next flag, a dark blue one.

A cacophony started as soon as people saw the new colour. Some cheered and others groaned. Arthur didn’t know what that means.

Francis turned to him almost immediately.

\- You still have that blue t-shirt that you were wearing yesterday, right? The dark blue one?

\- Hum… yes? Why?

\- _Splendide_! Are too fond of it?

Arthur shrugged.

\- Not exactly. It is just a t-shirt.

\- Would you mind if I cut it to make rags to sell? It could grant us lots of goodies to trade in case we need food later.

The teenager shrugged again.

\- I guess...

\- _Parfait_! Let’s go! We need to sell it!

They ran to the hideout. Francis dropped Arthur’s new stuff and quickly cut the blue t-shirt in lots of rags, all of them big enough to tie on the doors replacing the red rags.

They changed their own red rag for a blue one and then went to the market to sell the others.

The place was a complete mess now.

Anybody who had a dark blue article of clothe had cut it in rags and was selling the pieces. Anybody who didn’t have dark blue clothes were desperate trying to buy one.

The English teen guessed that nobody wanted to have their houses broken in by “scavengers”.

Arthur helped Francis sell the small rags to a big crowd.

It was quite enlightening to see the trading happening. Francis was trying to take the most of it while the people around were desperate for a blue rag and desperate for a discount.

In the end, they end up with lots of carrots, many potatoes, some radishes, lots of corn, many random vegetables, two bags of wheat, three bags of rye, a carton of fresh eggs, some homemade chocolate, a shovel, a pair of over-sized boots, a gallon of gasoline, twelve empty bottles, many small wires, many clothes, some batteries, two lanterns, a ream of white paper, twelve pencils and four pens.

Francis was grinning smugly after he sold the last piece of dark blue hag.

\- Let’s take all this home, _sourcils_ [French: Eyebrows].

Arthur stayed there while Francis took the first batch of products back home. Then they picked the rest and stocked everything on the living room.

The Frenchman looked at his watch.

\- You must be hungry. It is past lunchtime. Since we are rich today, how about we go lunch in a nice place and then go to explore the rest of that house from yesterday.

The younger felt his blood run cold.

\- Do we really must go back there? – he asked with a weak voice.

\- It would be best. We need to act fast before other scavengers find out that house.

\- Don’t we already have enough goodies?

\- But one day that goodies will be over, _lapin_ [French: bunny]. We need to always keep an stock. – Francis held his hand and smiled that gentle smile of his – Don’t worry, I’ll be with you all the time.

Slowly, Arthur nodded, even if he was feeling uneasy.

Francis smiled and put some of the gasoline on one of the empty bottles. He carried with them and traded it for lunch.

They went lunch at one of the stalls that sell cooked food. Francis had a plate of pasta with red sauce while Arthur had chicken soup and bread (that was all what his uneasy stomach was accepting on that moment).

The walk after that back to the barn house was quiet and tense. Francis didn’t tried to fill it with small talk, and Arthur was grateful for that.

However, the trip to the barn house was quite uneventful.

The English teen stopped for some moments in front of the graves to pay the deceased family some respect. After that, they when inside and start to take everything that had some quality and that they could carry in the many bags that Francis always carry on his backpack.

On that afternoon, the Frenchman taught him how to pick good pots from bad ones, how to choose bedding, which kind of perfumes were good for selling, which personal hygiene items could be sold and a miscellanea of other information that a scavenger of quality must know. It was surprisingly interesting.

Once Francis was satisfied with all the items that they had collected and their bags were full, they left the house.

Once again, Arthur had to stop in front of the graves. This time, he quietly thanked the family for the items that he took and apologized for stealing. The Frenchman let him do as he pleased.

They come back to the village fairly early. The sun hadn’t yet met the horizon.

\- _Parfait_! There are some items that we forgot to buy for you this morning!

Francis bought (using some of the items that they had picked that afternoon) a wristwatch, a tooth brush, some weird natural deodorant and a comb.

\- I don’t think I have to explain to you about the hygiene items, but the watch is really important for you now.

\- Why is that? – Arthur asked raising an eyebrow.

\- You see, in this world, the sun always rises at six thirty in the morning and sets at six thirty in the afternoon. That means that you must not leave the hideout until six thirty a.m. and that you must be inside the hideout at six thirty p.m. Otherwise, I hardly can guarantee your safety.

\- Oh. – Arthur gulped – On the other day, it took a little while for the creatures to show up after the sunset.

\- How long?

\- I didn’t count. But it wasn’t much I guess…

\- I prefer not to play with uncertainties. Let’s agree that the curfew is at sunset.

The memory of those monstrous creatures made Arthur shiver and nod.

\- Fair enough.

They stopped by Johnny’s family’s stall before going home. They bought milk and cheese for breakfast. Then the duo entered the hideout as the sun was beginning to set.

Just like the other day, the stalls and small business were dismounted fast and precise. The market closing for the night was the last thing Arthur saw before they close the door of the basement.

Francis lighted the oven again and they started to put away all their new merchandise. Most of the food they store for themselves. The other things were sorted in categories. For a thief (“Scavenger! I’m a scavenger, you damned _sourcils_ [French: eyebrows]!”), Francis was very organized.

The English teen picked a new t-shirt from the ones they negotiated that morning to compensate the blue one that he lost. It was somewhat big. The day had been humid, so he took a shower. He used the new big t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

Francis cooked them some spaghetti with white sauce, broccoli and chicken.

\- More broccoli than chicken. – he said with a sigh – We may need to buy more. And more ice for the icebox.

Arthur moaned when the food touched his tongue.

\- Why is everything that you cook so fucking delicious?

The Frenchman chuckled and smiled smugly.

\- I’m glad you like it, _sourcils_ [French: Eyebrows].

\- Don’t get so cocky, frog.

\- Oh, but did you know that the cock is the national animal of France?

\- You joking right?

And they engaged in a light and fun conversation during dinner.

The English teen washed the dishes on the bathroom.

Then he went to the living room to help himself with the cushions and pillows while Francis took a shower.

Francis passed him with a yawn.

\- _Bonne nuit, sourcils_ [French: eyebrows]. Don’t let the bed bugs bite you!

\- Fuck you Francis!

The Frenchman laughed and closed the bedroom door.

On the first fifteen minutes completely alone for the first time on that day, Arthur felt in peace.

It had been a fairly good day. He had finally started to understand that land, he had worked hard in a (arguably) good work and he had met some new people.

A very peaceful day indeed…

However, his inner demons, his memories wouldn’t let him sleep.

After those blissful fifteen minutes, Arthur spent another forty-five tossing and turning on the cushions.

It wasn’t exactly a memory, more like a sensation.

A horrible sensation that he needed more memories mixed with a fear with said new memories.

He was questioning who he was, why he was there, if he had really died, why did he killed five members of his family and other tough questions that he had no answer nor clue.

And not having answers was killing him, like a parasite that sucked out his good emotions from that day.

He tried to count sheep, but the sensation was like a big stone on his chest that didn’t let him breathe.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t think!

He stood up and went to the bathroom to wash his face.

It was difficult to see himself on the mirror over the sink with only the light of the wood burning stove.

The shadows were playing tricks on Arthur’s mind, for he didn’t saw himself in the mirror. He saw his brother’s face.

A weird sense of fear was taking him, like the fear one would have inside a nightmare. He couldn’t explain exactly why.

(He didn’t want to have an explanation. He was afraid of it).

Like a lost child, Arthur knocked on Francis’s door.

\- Francis? – he asked quietly.

He heard a groan inside the room that made him open the door.

\- Francis? – he asked again, still with a weak voice.

\- _Qu'est-ce que c'est, lapin_?

Arthur only understood the “lapin” part.

\- Can I sleep with you? – he bit his lips – I don’t want to be alone.

Francis gave him one of his gentle smiles.

\- Come here, _lapin_ [French: Bunny].

The English teen didn’t need to be told twice.

He laid with Francis and the Frenchman held him immediately.

\- Want me to sing? – the older asked with a tired voice.

Arthur nodded.

Francis sang with a sleepy voice. But he was exhausted. He was asleep again even before finishing the first lullaby.

The younger smiled.

He was lucky to have met the Frenchman.

Being with him had a soothing effect that he didn’t know how to explain.

So far, Francis had only been gentle and caring.

Arthur didn’t knew if it was due to the fact that he couldn’t remember his previous live, but those things were completely addicting for him, all that care and gentleness.

Even if he didn’t trusted Francis completely, he felt asleep peacefully with a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> No bad memories for Arthur in this one, though. I'm giving the boy a break for now.
> 
> I think I kinda lost the purpouse of what I was doing while writting this chapter.   
> Like, it shows a little how the world work (I guess), but it doesn't further the plot.   
> ...yeah... it probably sucks...
> 
> I'm not feeling well lately.
> 
> I'll have some things to do, so next chapter will take a while to write (if anybody cares at all for the fanfic).
> 
> I really want feedback. That is the only thing that I am asking.
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	8. Badly kept Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is being haunted by his memories.  
> They are a secrect that it is hard to keep.  
> And maybe that was not the only secret hard to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gil: APH Prussia  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING  
> (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> junge [German: boy]  
> mon lapin [French: My bunny]  
> Mauvais rêve? [French: Bad dream?]  
> Sourcils [French: Eyebrows]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

It turns out that a scavenger job was a lot more than just steal from the deceased.

People would hire scavengers to search for specific items for them and the scavengers would look in all the territory to find anything (for a price, of course). They didn’t have a completely good reputation, but they were tolerated.

The land in between the forest wasn’t that big. It was possible to cross from North to South (and vice-versa) in two days and from East to West (and vice-versa) in one.

And it turns out, Francis was a hell of a scavenger.

Many people, especially in Flag Village, would go talk to him about jobs.

That was why Arthur saw all the land: he spent the next month walking around helping Francis in his odd quests.

There wasn’t that much to see.

There was two other little towns other than Flag Village: Creek Hamlet and Gas Town. Both were smaller than Flag Village, even if Gas Town (and the Peterson Brothers) were trying to change their political status to become the new capital.

But politics apart, Arthur saw most of the land.

Everything would be extremely ordinary, if it wasn’t for the dark forest surrounding everything and the dark creatures that roamed the place.

The ones that were active during the day were unoriginally called Daywalkers. Arthur had seen only one Daywalker so far. Francis had called it “small” even if was the size of a huge wolf. It had no skin and half of its body was a gigantic mouth. The English teenager was glad not to see any other of those soon.

Whenever the scavenging job wasn’t paying enough, Francis would sell some of his mushrooms in jars and some small cakes (he indeed was an amazing baker). They would look up for some unoccupied house to “scavenge” too, but it was rarer to find one still untouched by others.

He made some friends of his own on the scavenger network and on Flag Village. Mostly kids of his age. They would hang out whenever Arthur was in town doing business. They were Lily Weaver, the younger of the Weavers sisters, Benjamin Cooper, son of a wheat farmer (he and Lily were dating in secret), Gal Hunter, another scavenger (she was young and lived on her own. Arthur didn’t want to upset her, so he didn’t ask about her past) and Isabela Martinez (daughter of the best mechanic of Flag Town). Francis would tag along from time to time or hang out with people of his age.

The Englishman hadn’t figured out yet what was his favourite flavour of cake was. It was difficult to do so due to the limitation of food that they had. He would still exchange a few words and gossip with Gilbert, though. That was the only moment in which Francis seemed to sulk with something that looked like jealousy (at least that was how Arthur was interpreting that behaviour). The Frenchman would glare at the albino and gnash. He would be snarkier than usual after Arthur came back. They would usually fight on those nights instead of the friendly bickering that they were used. Francis would always apologize soon, usually by kissing Arthur’s hands.

Arthur blushed at just the memory of that.

Each day that passed, Francis seemed to be more and more flirtatious towards Arthur. And Arthur was LETING him be flirtatious.

They were even sleeping together, for fuck’s sake!

He just couldn’t help himself.

Francis was devilish handsome and smooth talking.

And there was that gentle smile that he seemed to direct only to Arthur and Arthur alone.

\- What are you waiting for, you stupid head! – Gal had said one afternoon – Go for the kill and tap that French butt!

However, Arthur still was holding himself.

Mostly because of what Gilbert said.

_\- Such a small time for such a big worry, don’t you thing, junge [German: boy]? Don’t that makes you wonder about his inner motivations?_

Francis hadn’t been anything but good in front of Arthur, but the younger still was suspicious. Even if he craved for Francis, he still had that feeling that something wasn’t completely right about everything (that place, those people, Francis himself… Everything seemed out of place).

He and Francis hadn’t talked about it yet.

But more than ever, Arthur would caught himself staring at Francis. Sometimes in the most inconvenient moments.

\- Two rooms? – the innkeeper asked them, with a frown.

Even if the land wasn’t too big, sometimes it was hard to walk all the way back home (especially if one were a scavenger and were running some errands). Some people adapted their houses to become small inns all around the territory. The room’s reservation would close one hour before sunset. Anyone who entered after that would have to sleep on the main hall. The inns would close for good at 18:30, no matter if anyone knocked the door after that.

In Arthur’s opinion, Francis was careless when handling the inn’s reservations. The Frenchman would always rely on the last hour entering because it was cheaper and because it would let him work a little more.

The English teen wondered how that man was alive with such a disregard with the possibility of not finding an inn. At the same time, Arthur wondered how could that be the same guy who was so worried with time on the first day they met (he had given up trying to find a sense in Francis actions. Francis was too French for him to understand).

Arthur had complained and complained until Francis gave up and grudgingly accepted that Arthur would handle the time for now on.

(The English teen had thanked the older by kissing his cheek gently. It was really gratifying to see Francis become surprised, almost shocked, red and clumsy with every little kiss that Arthur would give him).

\- Just one. – he replied to the innkeeper.

The man raised one eyebrow.

\- We don’t allow any funky business on this inn.

Arthur blushed and frowned.

He could feel that Francis was smirking behind him.

\- There will be no “funky business”, sir.

\- We promise that we will behave. – Francis added, putting his arm over Arthur and still smirking.

Arthur growled and said under his breath:

\- Fuck off, Francis.

The innkeeper rolled his eyes.

\- Whatever. If I hear a thing, I’m throwing the two of you out in the middle of the night.

-Yes, sir. – the two young man said together.

Arthur negotiated their room there (he exchanged two good umbrellas, a porcelain cup and some gasoline) and grabbed the key.

\- Dinner is at eight, lights out at nine thirty. – the keeper said dryly.

They thanked and walked to their room.

Some of the other guests were on the corridor. The house was not exactly full yet. They would still have to share a bathroom, though.

The room (number 6) was on the second floor. The window would show the front view, but it was barricaded to keep the creatures on the outside.

As soon as they got in the room, Arthur glared at Francis.

\- Why must you ALWAYS try to imply that we are fucking?

Francis smiled smugly.

\- I like the mortified look on your face.

\- Fight me!

The Frenchman laughed.

\- Never knowing how to pick your fights, aren’t you?

\- I’ll kick your ass, you stupid frog!

Francis sat on the bed and sighed.

\- Anyways, I just don’t care about what they think. If they want to think that we are shagging each other, let them.

\- It is easy for you to say. They will assume that I am your bitch or something nasty like that.

A shit-eating grin find its way to Francis lips.

\- I can pretend that I am limping tomorrow morning. I really could care less about what they think of me.

Arthur blushed like a ripped strawberry.

\- Let’s just prepare to the night.

The Frenchman laughed.

\- As you wish, _mon lapin_ [French: My bunny].

No, they wasn’t having sex, but they slept every night together.

Arthur couldn’t find sleep without Francis by his side. It was like some anxiety would take control of him in the dark (even if there was some sort of light, the night would still have the same fear if he was alone). Francis didn’t seem to mind at all (he even seemed to like it), so they slept together. In the beginning they tried to rent two rooms so people wouldn’t talk. However, on the very first night they tried that, Arthur sneaked to Francis’s room as soon as possible. After that, they didn’t even try to sleep apart again.

On the next one and half hour, they mostly found out where the bathroom, the kitchen and the dining room were. Then they looked up on the hotel little shop.

Since there was no currency on the land, people were always looking for trade items, no matter what they did for a living.

Francis got a discount for a new pen for Arthur (he was the master of charming people enough for discounts). He gave it to the English teen with a flourish and a wink. Arthur rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly.

He had picked the habit of keeping a journal. There was some paper production on the land, but there was no notebooks, so Arthur had to make one himself. It was a little crooked, but it was a nice leather covered journal. Francis had made one too, but he usually would just draw and doddle and then show it to Arthur (he was quite good on that). So they were always buying pens, pencils and any other writing instruments that they could find.

They spent the rest of the time on the main room, waiting for dinner.

Francis talked with the others guests, being his charming and flirtatious self. Arthur picked his journal and opened a new log.

 

* * *

**Day 32**

**Today we are still looking for the wood planks and other shit for that boater on Creek Hamlet. Hell, who would thought that building a new boat would be so damn difficult? At least she is paying us for the delivery and for the days we spend on this (as long as we don’t take more than one week, of course).**

* * *

 

Arthur scratched his chin with the pen.

 

* * *

 

**Francis bought me a new pen** _._

* * *

He blushed, embarrassed for writing it down and terrible glad that Francis respected his privacy and didn’t read his journal.

Because many logs were about how much Arthur already liked Francis and all his insecurities about it.

It would be mortifying if the Frenchman ever read it.

 

* * *

**He is always so sweet.**

**Should I say that I like him?**

**Fuck. I’m sounding like a bloody school-boy again!**

**I don’t even know if that would be my first kiss!**

**Would it?**

**Fuck.**

* * *

 

He sighed.

 

* * *

 

  **Still no new memories. I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad sign.**

**On one hand, I don’t know if I have already kissed anybody or not.**

**On the other hand, I don’t want to remember about my family anymore…**

* * *

 

 

Many of his logs on the journal were about his memories, either his lack of memories or the ones that he recovered.

Since he met Francis, he had only three new memories, two of them were good ones with his mother. They were very small, but Arthur cherished all of them.

The third one was about The Man, but this one he preferred not to remember.

Arthur sat comfortably to revisit the one with his mother again…

 

* * *

 

_She had golden hair, lighter than his._

_Arthur liked to play with her hair._

_Mummy would always smile and let him do as he pleased._

 

* * *

 

 

He got this memory one afternoon while he was watching Francis comb his golden hair. Arthur was resisting the temptation of running his fingers though that silk hair when the memory showed up

 

* * *

 

_Arthur was terrified of the lake._

_He didn’t know how to swim and he didn’t want to lean._

_“It is ok, my darling” his mummy had said “We can have ice cream instead of going to swim”._

_“Really?”_

_“Of course, little love!”._

 

* * *

 

 

This other one showed up the first time he faced the river that ran on that land (people would call it just the River).

He was afraid of drowning. Terrified, actually. He had to clutch Francis hand and count many sheep just to cross the river (they had hired a boater to cross them).

Arthur sighed again.

At least now he knew his mother appearance.

Light blond hair, slim face, green eyes, full lips and a petite frame.

They had the same eyes, the same lips format and something similar on their cheekbones.

She had a sweet smile and a gentle voice.

He was glad to remember her.

And he still had mixed feeling about remembering more.

 

* * *

**I mean, I want to remember about my mummy. I’m fucking worried sick about her.**

**But I don’t want to remember mauling and killing the rest of my family anymore.**

**Or The Man. I don’t want to remember him either. I don’t even know who the fuck he is, but I had enough, thank you ver-**

* * *

 

 

Dinner call interrupted his log, but Arthur was almost done anyway.

They served vegetable soup to the guests, much to Arthur’s relief

There were rumours about places that would serve human flesh to the guests and about places that would EAT their guests. Lily had told him and Gal that, worried that they might become victims too. Gal had laughed, but Arthur, Isabela and Benjamin had listened to that seriously.

After that, they brushed their teeth and went to bed, Francis already holding Arthur as soon as they laid. A few minutes late, they head the sound of the light generator being turned off.

The Frenchman was out sleeping in a heartbeat.

It took longer to the English teen, and he had a nightmare.

His bad dreams were not bad dreams exactly.

They were his bad memories.

Repeating over and over again.

But only the memories that he had already recovered and never a new one. He couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Tonight it was the third memory that he got on that month that he was living with Francis.

That was another memory about The Man.

 

* * *

 

_“DO YOU THINK YOURSELF SPECIAL BOY!?” The Man shouted._

_Arthur was trembling and crying._

_He was just thirteen, but he felt smaller, younger and weaker._

_“N-no-“_

_“SPEAK LIKE A MAN, YOU PUSSY!”_

_Arthur just trembled more in terror._

_The Man’s four sidekicks were there. Just like the man, Arthur couldn’t distinguish their faces, as if something was preventing him of accessing that memory yet._

_He could read their expressions though._

_Sidekick One’s face mirrored the same anger that The Man had, just as vicious and terrifying. He hated Arthur just like The Man._

_Sidekick Two’s expression was cold and distant. They couldn’t care less for Arthur. They despised Arthur, as if he was just a disgusting worm._

_Sidekick Three had a twisted and sadistic smile on their face. They was having the time of their life watching Arthur suffer and cry._

_Sidekick Four had a smile on his face again, just as sadistic as Three, but with a morbid fascination. They liked watching and learning that evil ways._

_“ANSWER ME, YOU FAGGOT!” The Man screamed when Arthur didn’t answer._

_“I’m sorry, sir! I’m just scum!” he answered with the strongest voice that he could manage._

_The problem was puberty._

_His voice broke in the middle of his speech._

_Arthur felt his heart stop and his blood run cold._

_“YOU CAN’T EVEN SPEAK LIKE A MAN, YOU PUSSY!”_

_Three and Four snickered._

_The Man advanced towards Arthur._

_“I’LL SHOW YOU WHAT WE DO WITH PUSSIES!”_

_He painfully grabbed Arthur’s arm. He twisted it, almost breaking it in two._

_“Please! Sir! Don’t take me to the basement! Please! Please!”_

_But the Man dragged Arthur towards the door._

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur woke up sweated and panting.

He held Francis so tighter that he must have waken the older one.

\- _Mauvais rêve_? [French: Bad dream?] – he asked in slurred French.

Arthur hadn’t told Francis about his memories yet, nor he had told about his dreams. Francis never pushed, but he always offered help.

\- Just hold me, please. – Arthur begged with a quiet voice.

\- Hum… - Francis sighed tiredly and complied.

He sang a quiet French pop ballad and rubbed small circles in Arthur’s back.

Arthur was grateful for Francis not making any questions on those moments. It was hard enough to have those memories. He was not ready to speak about them.

When he stopped trembling he sighed and stopped holding the Frenchman so tight.

\- I’m fine. Go back to sleep.

He could feel the concerned stare ove his face.

\- Are you sure, _lapin_? – he asked caressing the younger’s face gently.

Arthur kissed that hand with tenderness.

\- Yeah. Go back to sleep, Francis.

The Frenchman held him protectively, as if his arms would keep the bad dreams/bad memories away. But he was tired, so he was asleep in a heartbeat.

Arthur couldn’t be more grateful.

Luckily, he always was able to go back to sleep as soon as he counted enough sheep and was calm enough.

That happened frequently.

When they were home back in Flag Village, Francis would always try to question him over breakfast. Arthur would always change subject and refuse to talk.

Since they were on an inn, they didn’t talked about it on the next day, even if Francis clearly wanted to and seemed worried with Arthur.

He held his hand the whole time, though, as if saying wordlessly that he was there if the younger wanted to talk (Arthur had to fight to keep his cool and not blush like a damn school-boy).

After breakfast, they were out on the field again, still looking for nails (the last thing to deliver for the boater on their job).

\- Maybe we can look on the Flag Market? – Arthur asked while they were walking in the direction of an abandoned house (they had a hammer and they intend to pick some nails from the furniture).

\- Nah. It would take too long.

\- How about Gas Town? They have lots of metal stuff there.

\- Do you really want to go back to Gas Town so soon, _Sourcils_ [French: Eyebrows]?

\- It is not that bad.

\- Last time you broke the nose of at least three guys bigger than you. I had to drag you out of that shop.

\- Hey! They were provoking me!

\- Still. Better not to go there for a few days, _sourcils_.

\- I hate you.

\- No, you don’t. – he laughed – And look! There is the house!

That house was relatively big (it had 4 bedrooms, kitchen, dinning and living room and a small studio) and was clearly abandoned (there was no rag over the door and some windows were broken).

Francis entered first, as always. He would look up for goodies and for bodies. He would always warn Arthur of those so they younger wouldn’t have a panic attack.

(Arthur always would nag Francis into burying the bodies they found to at least show some respect).

They had already been on that house on other occasions, so they knew the layout already and were comfortable to walk around carelessly.

The Frenchman smiled smugly to him.

\- Don’t go too far. I would hate if something bad happened to that pretty face of yours. – he winked.

The teenager blushed, but frowned and rolled his eyes.

\- Fight me, frog.

A musical laugh followed the older one while he looked on the kitchen for furniture that could be dismantled for nails.

Arthur looked on the bedrooms, but he was in deep though about his feelings for Francis, wondering and wondering if he should act on said feelings.

Because on one hand Francis WAS flirting and provoking him. On the other, Arthur may be misunderstanding the situation. He was deadly afraid that he was misunderstanding the situation. What if that was just the way Francis was? But what if Francis was interested in him? He wasn’t so bad, was he? Well, his eyebrows were a tag thick, but other than that he wasn’t bad. Was he?

Oh, Fuck.

He didn’t know.

He and Francis were friends, but he kinda liked Francis.

Like, like _like_ Francis.

But, was it unrequired or not?

Oh Fuck… He was screwed.

He was so lost in his inner world that he didn’t heard the growl, just Francis’s scream.

With sharp reflexes, Arthur was in the kitchen in the blink of an eye.

Francis was on the floor and on top of him was a Daywalker that was trying to eat the Frenchman.

That Daywalker had a humanoid form, but it was pitch black with silver eyes, very long and sharp teeth, and with toxic smoking leaving its body.

The room was dark, so it must have surprise attacked Francis while he was there.

The Frenchman struggled with one arm to hold the creature’s neck, so it wouldn’t bite him. With the other he was trying to avoid being cut by the monster’s sharp black claws. He couldn’t pick up his machete.

The Daywalker was trashing everything trying to reach for his prey. It’s only objective was to kill and kill and kill again.

Arthur felt his heart constrict for a fraction of second.

His only weapon was the old hammer.

But he didn’t hesitated.

His Francis’s life was in danger.

He hit the monster using the hammer with all the strength that he had.

That didn’t kill the Daywalker.

It only made him change his focus from Francis to Arthur.

It was ready to advance and kill Arthur, but his slight movement freed Francis hand.

The Frenchman wasted no time.

He picked his machete and stuck it in the middle of the monster’s chest.

The Daywalked seemed surprised, but not dead yet, so Francis take his machete out and stuck it in it’s chest again.

Finally, it felt on it’s side.

Unmoving.

Dead.

Francis stood up. He was pale and sweated.

Arthur was all over him in a heartbeat.

\- Francis! Are you alright? – he asked worried.

Francis nodded. His hand found Arthur’s neck in a tender and comforting embrace.

\- Yeah… - the Frenchman answered still unfocused and staring at the creature, as if expecting it to standing up again.

\- Thank God! – Arthur exclaimed in relief.

The blues eyes turned to him, already with a smartass answer to that.

But Arthur didn’t waited to hear it.

He acted on his relief and instincts.

Arthur kissed Francis.

It was clumsy.

It was reckless.

It was fantastic.

Well, at least for the first two seconds, until Arthur realised that the owner of those soft lips was not responding to his kiss.

He broke the contact.

Francis was staring at him with wide eyes, agape and blushing.

Oh, fuck.

He had screwed thing up, hadn’t he?

\- Oh, fuck! I’m sorry! – he detached himself from Francis – I misunderstood! Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

\- Arthur.

\- We can ignore this! Right? It didn’t happened, ok! Fuck! Fuck! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking!

\- Arthur!

\- I’m such an idiot! Really, I’m sorry! I didn’t meant to-

\- ARTHUR!

Francis was close to him again. Arthur could feel his breath on his face.

\- Shut up.

That was all what Francis said before kissing Arthur.

It was still clumsy and it was desperate.

And it was perfect.

Arthur answered right away, of course.

It was a hungry kiss, starved for the romantic and sensual attention that they didn’t have from each other that whole month. It was fuelled with teenager desperation for more and more and more.

It was perfect.

Arthur didn’t think that he could have a more satisfying kiss.

It was heaven…

…until his back collided to the wall.

They had walked during the kiss. Francis was gently (but desperately) pushing Arthur (searching for a flat surface, probably).

They collided with a wall.

It would be nice in their frenzy, if it wasn’t for the reaction that it activated on Arthur.

As soon as his back collided, he felt scared, like on his bad memories. Francis arms were around him and the Frenchman had one leg in the middle of his.

He felt trapped and terrified.

Arthur felt like he couldn’t breathe.

The kiss now felt more like a bite.

He broke it.

\- Stop! Stop! Stop!

He was hyperventilating and trembling. He felt lost and terrified.

\- Oh, _mon ange_.

Francis made him sit on the floor.

\- Look at me, _amour_. Let’s count, sheep ok? – he rubbed small circles on Arthur’s back – Come on, one sheep. Two sheep.

With a shaken voice, Arthur joined the counting.

\- Three sheep. Four sheep. …

They counted until the English teen’s breathe was regular and deep again.

The couple stayed in silence siting on the floor, Francis staring at Arthur and Arthur staring at the floor.

\- I screwed up, didn’t I? – the younger asked quietly.

\- No, you didn’t. It was a nice snog session.

Arthur snickered, and sheepishly looked at Francis.

\- I’m sorry I ruined it.

The Frenchman shrugged.

\- That is ok, I’m more worried about what happened to you.

The younger looked down again.

His tongue didn’t seem to be in sync with his brain, for he blurted something that he might not want to speak about.

\- It wasn’t a memory, it was more like a sensation.

Francis kept rubbing his back in a comforting way.

\- So you had bad memories before?

Arthur looked down embarrassed.

\- Hey, I’m not mad. – Francis added – That is ok. I’m just trying to understand what happened, ok?

The English teen nodded.

\- Yes… I had bad memories before.

The older nodded approvingly.

\- Ok. So this time was not a memory?

\- No, it was more like a sensation.

\- A sensation?

Arthur took a deep breath.

\- I felt trapped and scared. Like you were an evil predator who had corned me and was trying to hurt me or kill me.

Francis nodded approvingly again.

\- Was it because of the kiss?

\- Of course not, you dolt!

\- No need to snap on me. – Francis said with a stern voice.

Arthur lowered his head again.

\- I’m sorry…

Gently, Francis kissed his forehead and gave him that gentle smile that was only Arthur’s.

\- That is ok. I’m just trying to find out what happened. Was it because we were moving too fast?

\- I don’t know… Maybe?

\- That is ok. We can slow down until we figure out what is going on with you.

The younger one lowered his head.

\- Am I broken? – he asked with a sad tone.

Gently, Francis held Arthur’s chin and lifted his head.

\- Of course not, _mon amour_. You are just hurt. Bad people had hurt you. But you are healing now.

\- How can you be so sure?

The Frenchman smiled gently again.

\- I just know. And I’m here to help you heal, _mon ange_.

Arthur opened a tiny smile.

\- Ok.

Francis grinned.

\- May I kiss you again, Arthur Kirkland?

Arthur giggled.

\- Yeah, you can.

The kiss was gently and careful, but delicious nonetheless.

After that, they went back to the inn holding hands the whole way. Arthur felt tired, and he was glad that Francis agreed to take the rest day to rest.

They were smiling like fools and having little kisses now and then.

Two fools in their little blissful bubble.

Arthur felt a compulsion to tell Francis about all his memories so far. It was ironic that for someone who was desperate to keep his memories a secret, Arthur was splitting everything at the price of a few kisses.

(Deep down, he knew that he needed to talk to someone about them. He was just too stubborn to accept that and kept denying it until he exploded).

It was nice to share that, as if he was not carrying the weight all alone.

And it was amazing to be with Francis romantically.

They were still sleeping together in a platonic way, but now they would kiss each other good morning and Arthur would caught himself staring at Francis ass or groin more often than before.

They were more amorous with each other and were in a honeymoon bliss.

Everything was so perfect that it took three days to Arthur finally realize something important.

They were laid in their bed on their home. Francis was already asleep when Arthur realized that the Frenchman had no way to know that people had hurt Arthur.

The blissful bubble blew up.

When Francis had told that Arthur was not broken, he was just hurt, he had said that people had hurt him.

It could have been thousands of other explanations, but of all of them Francis picked the exact one.

How the hell could he know that?

The English teen stared at his partner in the dark.

How could Francis know that before Arthur tell him about his memories?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> Yeah, I know that I'm a tad late. I had promissed that I would deliver this chapter by the end of January, but we are in middle February already.  
> College had restarted and I'm back home (and not on my parents house anymore), so I don't have the time nor I had the right feelings to work. Besides, I was kind of depressed...  
> Anyways, I found the feeling again, now I just have to manage time. I'll try to deliver next chapter by the end of February/beginning of March. 
> 
> About this chapter, this was supposed to be bigger and very different. I was going to talk about a whole month of their lives and finish with a more twisted plot twist. It would still have the kiss, but it would advance quicker in the story.  
> I decided to cook a little bit more and make it only about the kids first kiss and give Arthur a longer break than what I expected.  
> Then I changed my plans AGAIN when I was writting it, by adding that second memory about The Man and adding that quiet twist at the end. These ideas just popped into my head, but they were SO PERFECT and fit SO FUCKING WELL into the plot that I HAD TO add them. Seriously, I feel like the plot became a tiny little bit richier with this additions. The memory gives more hints about what happened to Arthur while Francis "lucky guess" (if it is even a guess to begin with) add some new questions to the story (and I LOVE to add more mystery while I can xD).
> 
> I hope that Arthur is not acting like a prudish blushing mess virgin school-boy with a bonner o.o I've seen too much stories of him acting like that and I HATE them. I know that he blushed a lot in this chapter, but on his defense I have to remind you that he is a teenager boy with his first love, and I'm positive that every teenager with their first love blushes a lot. I hope that I was still able to describe him as hot-tempered, headstrong and strong young man that I know that he is. 
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	9. Behaviorism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behaviourism focuses on one particular view of learning: a change in external behaviour achieved through using reinforcement and repetition (Rote learning) to shape behavior.   
> Desired behavior is rewarded, while the undesired behavior is punished.  
> Unfortunately, Arthur is not aware of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
>  **[Stuff bolded]** = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL  
>  _[Stuff in italic]_ = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
>  \- [text after dashes] = TALKING (A Brazillian custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> Mon amour [French: My love]  
> Mon ange [French: my angel]  
> Sacrebleu! Il parle! [French: Damn it! It speaks!]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

**Day 36**

**I’m still far from understanding the mystery of how I end up on this place. Or why I am here.**

**But after a month, all is a mystery.**

**Francis is still a mystery himself.**

**I don’t know yet how could he guess something about my past and I don’t know how to ask that. I don’t even know if I’m overreacting or not.**

**I mean, Francis IS perceptive. Have I given hints without noticing?**

**Fuck!**

**I don’t know!**

**Does he know more than what he says or he is just really perceptive?**

**I want to trust him, especially now that we are… together.**

**I don’t know what we are. Are we boyfriends? Friends with benefits? Are we dating? But we live together! It makes no sense to be dating AND living together.**

**To simplify this bloody mess, we are together. I guess this will do for now.**

**And I want to trust him. I really do. But at the same time I wonder about who he is really.**

**I mean, I killed my family before dying and ending up here. What has he done? Does he have any memory from his past? He says that he doesn’t, but isn’t it odd that only I got some of my memories back?**

**But, I don’t know… He is so good to me…**

**Fuck, I’m blushing AGAIN! Hopefully he is too distracted talking with the others guests in this inn that he didn’t see it (they didn’t even noticed yet that Francis had stolen a few items from them. He is just that suave. Hopefully that will help us survive).**

**He likes to kiss me whenever I blush, that bastard.**

**Well, I won’t say no to a kiss from him, but I kinda hate when he does that and we are at inns. Some people look at us angrily, and although I would punch then at any time, I don’t want to be kicked out of the night shelter, thank you very much!**

**So I have to keep his hands out of me in public.**

**In public.**

**Just in public.**

**But it is fucking hard.**

**He is such a dork! A very cute and handsome as hell dork.**

**He stole a fountain pen for me on the other day. I still don’t have ink, but Francis said that he will get some to me, no matter what.**

* * *

 

**Day 42**

**We still are jobless. It is the third day already. Francis said that this is not normal, and I have to admit that it is freaking weird.**

**It is very annoying that Gal have jobs and we don’t.**

**I don’t know, this usually don’t bother me, but lately Gal, Benjamin, Lily and Isabela seemed to be bullying me. I don’t know… they keep complaining! Like the fact that is not raining is my fault! Or Francis’s fault!**

**Bloody wankers!**

**That is completely ridiculous!**

**I know that I’m not the most sweet or patient person, but Francis don’t deserve this!**

**He is even more sweet (and dorky) now.**

**He is always saying to me how much I’m worthy and complimenting me, even on the smallest details.**

**I feel guilty for craving those small compliments so much. I guess it is this whole situation.**

**Yeah. Probably.**

 

* * *

 

  **Day 50**

**Francis is trying to teach me how to pickpocket.**

**We are receiving fewer and fewer jobs. I guess it is because it is not raining for few weeks now. No rain, no food, no jobs.**

**That is why we need to steal.**

**Francis and I don’t have any other option.**

**It is wonderful to receive Francis’s compliments whenever I got it right (and a kiss. His kisses are better whenever I got it right) but I still don’t like it.**

**Maybe this is why I suck so much at trying to do it.**

**Francis keep trying to motivate me and I want to do it right for him, but I feel bad about taking from other people.**

**I mean, everybody is suffering from the drought too, right?**

**Lily’s and Isabela’s families seems to be doing good. Francis says that it is because they are not playing fair with everybody else.**

**And they keep complaining about me! Always the same bullshit: always complaining how I am “too happy” with Francis and that people cannot be that happy.**

**Bullshit.**

**I KNOW him.**

**Francis is good!**

**I told Francis what they were saying and Francis said that they probably were jealous that we find each other, even if we are both foreigners. He said that the people in this land is unforgiving with strangers and that I have all the right to be angry. That they should be supportive.**

**Damn right!**

**Francis is perceptive. That is how he can guess things about people and that is how he just know which people to pickpocket.**

**We are in need of more things to trade.**

**Maybe I should dedicate myself more to learn to pickpocket.**

**Just maybe. I’m not sure.**

 

* * *

 

  **Day 58**

**I’M SO FUCKING ANGRY!**

**I tried to negotiate a jar with Benjamin (for Francis’s mushroom little farm. It is growing like crazy!) and they all tried to make an unnecessary intervention just because I’m “spending too much time” with Francis.**

**I fucking LIVE WITH HIM!**

**Why suddenly they are so fucking worried about it!?**

**They said that that was because I “don’t act like a stranger” while Francis does. As if I’m their pet.**

**So they are fucking being xenophobic now that we are in a drought and therefore in a crisis?**

**I’m not “strange” enough but Francis is?!**

**Fuck them!**

**Fuck them right on their asses!**

**On my way out, I stole that damn jar. They didn’t even noticed.**

**But although I still think they are assholes, I feel kinda guilty now.**

**I shouldn’t have done that.**

**But we need to eat too.**

**I hate all this situation.**

**Still no rain.**

 

* * *

 

 Arthur was sitting next to a three at the entry of the dark forest. He had just had an argument with his former 4 friends.

He couldn’t understand why they were treating him like that, as if he should act more like a local to be part of the gang instead of being a foreigner and as if Francis was the cause of their drought.

That xenophobic explanation only made the English teen become more and more angry.

Arthur noticed the annoyed and angry stares that they were receiving now during the drought by the other citizens.

They were not one of them.

His “friends” “adopted” him as their foreigner pet while Francis, that was more independent, was a threat. Someone to compete with Gal and all the others local scavengers.

The drought showed how fragile their situation was.

That made Arthur completely mad.

He was so mad and so deep in his hate that he tried to ignore his doubts about Francis the best way he could.

Specially because Francis was the only one who would always praise and support him.

Even the smallest tasks were worth of a “very good”, a kiss and a smile.

Just like the sensation of being attacked that Arthur got when they kissed with his back against the wall, he had that desperate feeling of craving for said compliments and smiles.

All started with a pleasant surprise when Francis did that on the first time.

A really pleasant surprise.

Arthur felt like that was the very first compliment that he had ever received.

Which was completely ridiculous.

It wasn’t possible that those were his first praises! Even if he didn’t have all his memories, the one that he have with his mother were gentle and tender. She had praised and cherished him. Then, why did he felt like that whenever Francis praised him?

It makes no sense at all!

(At least it didn’t made sense with the few memories that he had so far).

His stomach grumbled.

They were low on food.

Francis was trying to hunt something so they could have the meat.

He had caught a rabbit on the other day. He tried to coax Arthur into taking its life while Francis prepared the fire. Arthur couldn’t do it.

The Frenchman had smiled calmly, but the small disappointment in his eyes (as if Arthur was still a small child that he had to take care of instead of a partner) was almost enough to make the younger break the rabbit neck.

He still couldn’t do that, though.

 **Stupid rabbit** he wrote on his journal. He was going to start another rant when he heard a caw.

Arthur looked up from his notebook to the branch right above him.

A black crow was sitting there, staring at the teenager.

\- Shoo! – the English said, hitting the trunk of the tree to try to scare the bird.

The crow didn’t even bother.

\- Have you ever wondered, Arthur Kirkland, how much you have changed? – the crow asked seriously.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

\- Oh, it is you again. – he stood up – I was wondering if I had imagined you or not.

\- I’m very much real, or as real as I can get.

\- I have questions for you.

\- Unfortunately, I don’t have answers for you.

\- Why the fuck not?

\- My… - it cawed again – ‘master’ is the one with the answers. But now it is not the time to give it to you.

\- Fucking-tastic. – Arthur said with sarcasm.

\- Besides, Arthur Kirkland, isn’t it better if you find them by yourself?

\- If you only came here to annoy me with questions that I’m far from answering-

\- No. – the crow interrupted – I’m here to warn you.

The English teen blinked.

\- Warn me? Warn me about what?

\- Your lover-boy.

The young man frowned.

\- What about Francis?

\- You cannot trust him.

\- Oh, and I should trust a fucking talking crow instead?

\- He is dangerous, Arthur Kirkland. I wasn’t going to interfere on your affairs, but this got too far. You can love him. Love him until he is not dangerous anymore. But I beg of you, don’t trust him yet.

\- You are wrong! Francis is not dangerous! He is the sweetest person ever!

\- Can’t you see what he is doing to you, Arthur Kirkland? Can’t you see?

\- FUCK YOU, BIRD!

In his anger, Arthur throw whatever was in his hand at the crow, his journal.

The bird tried to flee, but Arthur had an impressive aim.

He hit the bird and it felt on the ground not far from him. The journal was open over it, preventing the crow to fly away.

The teenager heard hurried steps towards him while he picked the bird from the ground.

\- _Mon amour_ [French: my love]! Are you alright? I heard you scream! – Francis asked hurriedly.

\- I’m ok, poppet. But look! I found that blasted talking crow that I told you about!

The crow was squirming and cawing innocently.

Francis raised his eyebrows.

\- Are you sure this is that crow?

\- Of course I am!

\- It looks quite common to me.

Arthur glared at the crow.

\- Speak, you bloody bird, or I swear that I’ll break all your limbs!

It cawed again.

\- You son of a-

\- _Mon ange_ [French: my angel], - he put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder - calm down. No need to be cruel to the bird…

\- It deserves it! Besides how can you believe me if you don’t see it talking?

Francis stared at his partner and at the cawing crow.

With an unreadable expression he nodded slowly.

\- Alright. Break it’s wing then.

Arthur hesitated.

He wasn’t expecting that answer.

The Frenchman only stared, waiting to see what will happen.

Still hesitating, the younger glared back to the bird.

\- Speak!

It only cawed.

Allowing himself to be filled with anger, Arthur grabbed one of the wings of the crow in his hands and twisted it abruptly.

A soft crack was heard.

The crow screamed.

\- Stop! Arthur, stop! – it screamed – Don’t allow him to do this to you!

Francis gasped in surprise and Arthur smirked triumphantly.

\- See! Told you!

\- _Sacrebleu_! _Il parle_! [French: Damn it! It speaks!]. But why it is here now?

\- To annoy me.

The crow was screaming to be released. France scratched his chin with a thoughtful expression.

\- We could use him as dinner. It is always good to have more meat. – the Frenchman said in a very calm way – Break its neck and clean the meat while I’ll prepare the fire.

Arthur opened another smirk.

\- With pleasure.

Francis smirked too, as if the two of them were sharing a cruel joke.

The crow screamed when Arthur held its neck…

…and it disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

\- What the fuck! – the English teen exclaimed – That fucking crow!

\- That is ok, _mon amour_.

\- How the fuck could disappearing in a-

Francis kissed him into silence.

\- Stop trying to find a sense to this world. It is probably impossible. Let’s focus on filling our bellies instead. – he kissed Arthur again – Good job finding us food, even if it ran away in a weird manner.

And he gave Arthur that praising smile that made the younger be extremely pleased with himself.

The English teen forgot his questions, nodded with a smile and claimed another kiss.

When they broke apart, Francis picked a bag from his backpack that was writhing.

\- I caught two rabbits today! Can you take care of them and clean the meat while I prepare the fire?

Arthur smirked.

\- Give me your machete and I’ll do it!

He had no problem killing the rabbits that day.

Right after making the fire for their lunch, Francis smiled at Arthur and kissed him on the lips again.

\- Good Work!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> Just in time for what I had thought! haha xD
> 
> Although I'm not quite happy with this chapter.  
> It is a proof of my lazyness.  
> Because I should make at least four separated chapter to address Francis's behaviour towards Arthur properly.  
> But, honestly, that is SO FUCKING BORING TO WRITE.  
> I mean, this was a crucial chapter to the story, and yet it was boring to write.  
> I guess I just don't know anything about manipulation. That is why this was so hard. 
> 
> Another reason why I'm not happy with this chapter is because I'm pretty sure it is confusing as hell. I guess because I found it boring to write, I didn't had the proper motivation to keep writting it properly. 
> 
> I tried. Oh my Gooddess, do I tried!
> 
> Another reason is college. I have fewer and fewer time to write and other things... Like, I really don't have time and I feel like my depression will be back real soon ._.
> 
> Goddess! It is hard to keep up, specially since I'm unmotivated.
> 
> I hope that at least I got people wondering why Francis would do that to Arthur (whatever "that" is). 
> 
> And I hope that next chapter it will ve better! I'll walk a tad faster with the plot.  
> Just a tad.
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there). 
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	10. Smoke and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like magic, Arthur realizes that he cannot trust Francis blindly.  
> But he cannot trust Gilbert either.  
> Which of them is the one hidding behind smokes and mirrors and who is the one telling the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> THIS CHAPTER HAVE A LITTLE OF SEX!
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gilbert: APH Prussia  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> [Stuff bolded] = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL  
> [Stuff in italic] = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING (A Romance Language custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> chaton [French: kitten]  
> beau [French: handsome]  
> Je t’aime [French: I love you]  
> junge [German: boy]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

It took a little more than two months, but FINALLY Arthur knew that his favourite cake was strawberry cake.

Actually, he enjoyed anything that had strawberries on it.

And lucky he was able to steal enough strawberries from a small green house near Flag Village, owned by a family of four.

(He stole almost all the strawberries without feeling any guilty for taking that poor family’s income source in the middle of that drought).

Francis used some of those strawberries plus other ingredients to make a small cake, so Arthur could finally exchange it with Gilbert for that axe.

\- Do you really want that axe, _chaton_ [French: kitten]? It probably will be pretty useless…

Arthur thought for one moment. Although Francis was probably right as he always was, he felt that the situation with Gil needed some kind of closure before he could forget everything about that weird weapons dealer.

(Arthur was getting really good in not carrying. He almost didn’t care anymore about retrieving his memories and he didn’t ask as many questions as before. The English teen still held his mummy’s memories closer to his heart, but he was becoming too satisfied in having only those few memories about her. Since that bird incident, twenty two days ago, it was easier to just let the thinking to Francis).

\- I’m pretty sure, poppet. – he gave Francis a small kiss – The sooner I deal with him, the sooner we will never have to talk to him again.

The Frenchman grunted, but kissed Arthur back quickly.

\- Good point, _beau_ [French: handsome]. But don’t stay there for too long and just trade the cake and get out. You know that I don’t trust that ripper…

The younger chuckled and kissed Francis again.

\- I know, poppet. I’ll be quick. Meet you near the Flag Plaza?

- _Oui…_ Maybe I should go with you…

\- Francis, I can handle dealing with that guy. You go and try to find us a job for tomorrow or something to trade.

Arthur then went by himself to talk to Gilbert. He carried the cake carefully. His smile announced to the world that he was in a radiant mood.

(It was easy to have a good mood when one don’t care at all, like Arthur found out during that period).

It was Wednesday, so the albino would be there.

Arthur couldn’t help but notice the silent anger stares that people would give to him.

Everyone.

Things were getting more and more complicated due to the drought.

People were turning at each other.

There have been even more stories about people committing cannibalism.

Gas Town was almost rioting against Flag Village.

The roads were not safe anymore.

Even the Daywalkers were more active than ever.

And people blamed the two foreigners.

Other scavengers would say that there was no jobs because Francis and Arthur were taking them all.

Most farmers refused to negotiate with them.

Some inns were refusing them, even with them paying with a huge amount of products.

Arthur’s ex friends were even refusing to look him in the eye.

The situation was dire.

“I’ll have my axe today” Arthur thought “and I’ll be able to defend myself and to defend Francis if something happen”.

Funny how his feelings about the axe had changed.

Gilbert’s little shop was empty of customers, but the albino didn’t seemed worried at all. His yellow little bird was on his shoulder and tried to look threatening to the English teen (as much as a small bird can be threatening). Gil greeted Arthur without the usual cheerfulness.

\- Long time no see, _junge_ [German: boy].

Arthur grinned.

\- I’ve came to honour our deal. – he showed the small cake.

Gilbert nodded.

\- You seems to have figured out the right answer.

\- Indeed.

\- And you had all the ingredient. – the albino seemed suspicious.

\- We have been lucky lately.

\- So I’ve heard, Arthur Kirkland, so I’ve heard. But what was the price for all this “good luck”?

Arthur shrugged happily.

\- Your antics won’t work with me this time.

The hooded face seemed unimpressed.

\- Oh? And why is that?

\- I decided that your inputs are not important anymore. They just give me headaches.

\- So you chose to not care. – he stared directly at Arthur, that unsettling stared under his hoodie – People who don’t care are the worst type of evil in this world or in any other, Arthur Kirkland.

Some shivers run down the teen’s back.

\- I wonder – Gilbert continued – what or _who_ motivated you not to care anymore.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

\- Just take the goddamned cake and give me my axe.

\- Oh, but I have to make sure the cake is the right one.

\- So you are telling me that you knew the answer already?

\- I never said I didn’t know. – he picked the cake from Arthur’s hands and picked a knife – It won’t take long, _junge_ , be patient.

The albino started to eat that small piece slowly, much to Arthur’s chagrin.

But while Gil was distracted, the English teen started to eye some of the exposed merchandise.

A Swiss Army knife, small and red with a little white cross as decoration.

Arthur hold back a grin. It would be lovely to go back home with two things instead of one, wouldn’t it? While the seller was distracted, Arthur’s fast hand made it’s way towards the small item.

It would be too easy.

However, as soon as his hand’s closed on the small blade, Gilbert, without even looking at him, said in a deep and strong voice:

\- Keep your hand where I can see it.

Arthur lost control over his own hand.

He couldn’t move it anymore.

\- What the fuck!?

He tried to pull it away from the small Swiss Army knife, but he couldn’t. It was like his hand was glued to the ground below the object by magic.

Gilbert finished eating the small piece of cake.

\- Haven’t your mother taught you that it is wrong to steal from the others?

\- Fuck you! Let go of my hand, you sad fuck!

Gilbert stared at him with that intense hooded look, as if his eyes were flames behind that veil.

\- Shut up.

Arthur found out that he couldn’t speak anymore either.

Gil stared at him with anger for some moments before sighing and calming himself.

\- Look, _junge_ , I know that your behaviour is not entirely your fault. And I know that you cannot even realize that. But try to be reasonable! Try to be the good person that I know you still are! Keep that curiosity and understanding and good heart that I KNOW that you have.

The younger only glared at him.

The yellow bird flew around his head peeping angrily and trying to peck him.

Arthur defended himself the best way he could with only one hand.

The albino sighed.

\- Gilbird, that is enough.

The bird flew back to Gilbert’s shoulder.

The Germanic continued.

\- At least think about your mother. She didn’t raise you on her on to you to be a hooligan. Here, I can show you that.

He slapped Arthur’s hand three times. He didn’t used any force and it barely made any noticeable noise, but the effect was immediate.

 

* * *

 

_His mother stared disappointed at him._

_“Arthur. It is wrong to steal from anybody!”_

_He bit his lips._

_“Show me your hands, young man”_

_He showed the stolen lollipop._

_She sighed and slapped his hand three times without force._

_“Now, what is the right thing to do, Arthur?”_

_“Give the lolly back…”_

_She smiled._

_“So, what you are going to do?”_

_“…Give the lolly back…”_

_“That’s right.”_

_She kissed his forehead._

_“You have to be good, Arthur, ok”?_

 

* * *

 

Arthur fell on his butt.

He was in shock.

\- WHAT THE FUCK!?

Gilbert was staring at him patiently.

\- How the fuck you know how to give me a memory?!

The albino grinned.

\- Yes, yes. Keep asking questions, Arthur Kirkland. Keep that curiosity and interest in life. This will make you go places.

\- You didn’t answered my question.

Gil smirked his usual smirk.

\- Oh, but I will, Arthur. I will answer all your question for me. Just not today, not now.

\- Why the hell not? – the younger asked sitting again in front of the weapon’s dealer.

\- The time isn’t right yet, _junge_. But soon, it will be time for me to answer some of your questions.

Arthur frowned.

\- How soon?

Gilbert only smirked.

\- Soon, Arthur Kirkland, soon. But rest assured. I’m probably you oldest friend on this land. Now, - he handed Arthur the red axe – although I know that this cake was made with wrong materials, wrong because they were stolen, I never said anything about the cake needing to be made with non-stolen goodies. Our deal stands.

Gingerly, Arthur took the axe.

\- And if you want some piece of advice, _junge_ , - Gilbert continued – be careful with how people influence you. Allow your heart to be open to others, but don’t let them rule your heart.

\- You are talking about Francis, aren’t you?

Gil smirked.

\- Smart boy, smart boy. Just make sure to see beyond the smoke and mirrors before it is too late. Now, you better get going before he decides to come looking for you.

Noticing that he wouldn’t get anything else from that conversation with the albino, Arthur stood up and started to walk away.

\- Don’t become a stranger, Arthur Kirkland! – Gil shouted to the English teen’s turned back.

With confusion clouding his spirit and many questions reappearing on his mind, he walked to meet Francis.

\- How it was? – the Frenchman asked with a serious expression.

Arthur offered him a stained smile.

\- You know how he is.

Francis didn’t even smiled, examining Arthur intently. The younger felt naked under that stare or as if the older was staring inside his mind.

\- You tell me: how is he?

Arthur wanted to blindly trust Francis one more time and tell him everything.

It would be so _easy_ to just tell him the truth and don’t have to think about it… Francis could handle the thinking for him. It would be easier, more comfortable and simpler.

But Gilbert’s words among with the easy and careless way that he trigged a memory of Arthur’s mother awoken his suspicions once again.

What was Francis doing that made him even considering not wanting to remember more of his mother?

How he was doing this?

Most important: why he was doing this?

Questioning all the things, people and motive around him once again was tiring and hard.

But suddenly Arthur realized that he needed to do so.

Francis knew about his past and Francis knew more than what he was showing.

How would he know that?

And was he telling the truth when he said that he didn’t remember his own past?

Arthur kept the fake smile on his face and shrugged.

\- You know, weird and cryptic. He said something, like, how I was distancing myself from the Light Side of the Force or some bullshit like that.

The Frenchman was still serious.

\- He actively mentioned the Light “Side of the Force”?

\- Ah… no? I was paraphrasing. I didn’t really pay too much attention to be honest.

With those words, Francis sighed and visibly relaxed.

\- Sounds like the best thing you could do. Gilbert is prone to lying. He is too fond of smoke and mirrors. Honestly, why would anyone believe him?

Why would Francis be so desperate to discredit Gilbert? Arthur questioned himself.

The older kissed the younger.

When they broke the kiss, Francis smirked.

\- So, it is already quite late… - he fondled Arthur’s belly over his green hoodie – You know, we should go home earlier. So I can… - he kissed Arthur again – Make you forget about that silly weapon’s dealer…

Although he had many questions and distrusts, Arthur nodded and kissed his boyfriend, happily trying to return to normalcy.

\- Sounds like a date!

They were moving slow with their relationship, or as slow as two full of hormones teenagers with the hots for each other could move.

Francis would always make sure Arthur was comfortable and he would always blow the younger while jerking off. He always said that since they didn’t had lube, it was impossible to them to have penetrative sex, but that oral sex was sex none the less. (He would laugh at a blushing Arthur and claim to have taken his virginity. Arthur would be embarrassed, but would laugh too, delighted with the thought).

He never allowed the English teen to blow him. Nor he would make out with Arthur being on bottom or pressed against any wall. He was ALWAYS gentle with Arthur, even gentler, slower and more careful than a normal horny teenager would be, as if he was always afraid of something. 

For the first time, Arthur wondered why.

Why all that rules and conditions for their sex life?

On that night, Francis was particularly more diligent on giving pleasure to Arthur.

The English teen was on his back on their bed, moaning and groaning. His French boyfriend’s tongue was on his dick and one hand was fondling his balls. The other French hand was jerking Francis’s own penis.

It was hard to think.

Arthur didn’t want to think on a moment like that.

It was too good to think.

Suddenly, said French tongue was not on Arthur’s prick anymore. It sucked his balls on it’s way down, but then it went further.

Further until Arthur’s asshole.

The English teen gasped surprised.

\- What you are doing?!

Francis blinked innocently.

\- I’m doing something different. You didn’t liked it?

\- It is… It is… It is dirty!

The Frenchman licked the small area under Arthur’s balls, making the younger moan.

\- I don’t really care, _mon amour_ [French: my love]. Would you like me to continue?

He smirked.

\- Yes… - Arthur moaned.

It was a complete different sensation to have a tongue to probe and lick his ass while a skilled hand was still jerking him.

Arthur was lost in minutes, coming hard and saying Francis’s name breathlessly.

Francis came himself, dirtying his hand with semen.

Both were panting and high from the good orgasm.

\- What was that for? – Arthur asked still breathless.

\- Can’t I just treat my boyfriend with a good time? – Francis asked back with a mischievous smile – Wasn’t that good?

\- Yes… But I want to know how to make you do that again.

Arthur was impressed by how easy that lie came to his mouth. He felt guilt for lying to Francis, but he needed to find out more about his motivations.

The Frenchman chuckled kissed the younger’s belly fondly.

\- That was because you are a good boy. A good boy who cares for what is important and don’t care for who is not. – he kissed the belly again.

A good boy for not caring.

A good boy for caring only for himself and for Francis.

Why he was so desperate into turning Arthur in a person like that?

The Frenchman stood up.

\- I’m going to brush my teeth. I’ll be back in a minute. – he throw a kiss into Arthur’s direction – _Je t’aime_ [French: I love you].

And then, the questions that Arthur had in his mind got caught up on his feeling.

Because, with Francis smiling like that and saying that he loved him right after sex, it was hard as hell to keep all the doubts in his mind.

The Frenchman HAD TO love him. Arthur wanted and had to believe that. He knew in his heart that Francis loved him back. There was no other explanation for how the blue eyes would light up when the English teen smiled.

That WAS love.

While Francis was away, other questions plagued Arthur’s mind.

Why Gilbert was so desperate to make him question his relationship with Francis?

How could he know how to make him have another memory?

How could the albino control his hand and his voice?

How could Gilbert know Arthur’s favourite cake?

How could Gilbert know that he had stolen the strawberries?

Why did the albino hid his eyes?

Laying there, naked and alone, Arthur just didn’t know what was true and what was just smoke and mirrors.

And why the two of them used the same expression on the same day to talk about the other?

Why both said to be careful with smoke and mirrors?

And after all: who was hiding behind smoke and mirrors and who was telling the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> Fifteen minutes late with a starbucks haha that is me
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is... too rushed... I know x_x   
> I'm beginning to be afraid that I'll lose quality to the story on some parts ._.   
> Because I'm not ok (college had been making my live hell) and the situation is too confusing already on the story. I mean, Arthur doesn't know in who to trust, and they both seems to be telling lies.   
> I hope that at least this doubt was clear...  
> So the author was feeling bad and the story is difficult. That is not a very good combination...  
> I'm sorry for the hushed results.
> 
> I'll try not to rush on the next one. Specially because we are going to have some gruesome stuff again 8D  
> Be ready for a bumpy chapter ahead!
> 
> Anyway, I was going to make a reference for the Wizard of Oz (for the mirrors and smoke stuff), but I didn't seem to fit it...  
> BUT there was a small scene of sex =D  
> I know, I suck balls when I'm writting sex scenes (pun intended). I assure you all that the REAL sex scene, one that was planned since the very beginning will happen... in a far away future 8D after a HUGE plot twist. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this story s2 
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there).
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	11. Unknow secret (A very small update)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert's words made Arthur re-start to think about Francis.  
> Who was Francis really?  
> And what was he hiding?  
> (THIS IS A SMALL UPDATE JUST TO SAY THAT I AM ALIVE. More details at the end note)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gilbert: APH Prussia  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> [Stuff bolded] = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL  
> [Stuff in italic] = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING (A Romance Language custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English int his chapter that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> mon ange [French: my angel]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> (THIS IS A SMALL UPDATE JUST TO SAY THAT I AM ALIVE. More details at the end note)
> 
> Now, to the story!

Arthur never told Francis about his newest memory. Even if Francis kept saying that he could trust him.

Also, Arthur didn’t talked to Gilbert again. Even if the albino waved and smiled to him.

He was more favourable to trust Francis, but since that talk with Gil he was too wary to blindly trust him again.

That was eating Arthur alive.

He felt awful.

He had no reason to distrust Francis.

Francis had only been gentle and sweet with him.

So why he still felt like the Frenchman was hiding something, something big?

Francis noticed the change, of course, like the perceptive bastard that he was.

He would kiss Arthur at any part of his body that was closer and ask worriedly:

\- _Mon ange_ [French: My angel], what is wrong?

But Arthur would only smile and lie.

It didn’t took long to the Frenchman associate the change with Gilbert’s talk with Arthur alone. That realization leaded to a fight between the two lovers and a subsequent make up sex.

But although the sex was great (as always), Arthur still held his tongue.

He didn’t know how to inquire Francis about what he was hiding.

He didn’t EVEN know what Francis was hiding!

Was the Frenchman a killer like him? If yes, why haven’t he told Arthur? The English teen had confessed killing his family! What could be worse than that?

Unless…

Unless Francis secret was not that.

So what was it? And how ask about it?

Arthur didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> First of all, I want to apologize for this smallish update. I know that is kind of frustrating to see so little. So I'll explain the reasons why it is so little and why this is a good thing (I guess...)
> 
> Why it is so little:  
> I was having a hard time at college (again) and I didn't had too much time and energy to write.  
> Also, there was the FrUk Spring Festival 2k16 event in the middle of this period. You can check the six fanfics that I did for it on my profile.  
> There is even one story that I am really considering expanting to a 3 or 5 chapter fanfic (the fanfic "Red and Hunter") and another that I am thinking of making a series of oneshot ("Tainted Love", and this one have explicit mature content). But, of course, "In Between" first
> 
> Now, why this little chapter is good:  
> 1) Show that I am alive and willing to continue this fanfic  
> 2) It saves me the job of making an abrupt jump on time inside a chapter. Like, now I can start a few days later without worrying too much.  
> 3) A break in chapter expands the feeling of uncertainty inside Arthur's head (It "cooks" the story a little bit longer....). So it is preparing the ground for next one (that, hopefully, will have as much impact as I want it to have)  
> 4) It motivates me. Because I really like publishing stuff (and feedback, of course).
> 
> I expect to be able to deliver a brand new full chapter within 10 to 15 days (if no unforeseen situation happens, of course), so the next waiting will be short =3
> 
> And, as I said, I hope that next chapter will be... eventful 8D
> 
> EDIT: I just realized that the notes are bigger than the story this time haha. Sorry.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this story s2
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com among with A LOT of FrUk Stuff =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there).  
> (just be aware that drama can eclode on my blog from time to time)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	12. The Devil with Green Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, still a drought.  
> Arthur didn't know what to do, so he accepts the crow's advice.  
> Little did he know that it would trigger such horrible events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gilbert: APH Prussia  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> [Stuff bolded] = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL  
> [Stuff in italic] = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING (A Romance Language custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English int his chapter that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> mon ange [French: my angel]  
> mon amour [French: my love]  
> Je sais [French: I know]  
> Ta Gueule! [French: Shut the fuck up!]  
> junge [German: boy]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

The next days didn’t bring any rain or any closure to Arthur’s dilemma.

If anything, things started to get worse, either with the natives or with Francis.

The two of them were still blamed by some for being the responsible for the drought, even if Francis had lived there for some time already and even if they were just two kids trying to survive.

Also, now Arthur was not so sure anymore if he should steal or do any of the other morally grey things that his lover kept suggesting. He just kept wondering and wondering why Francis wanted him to do that. Why did he want Arthur not to care for anything?

The English teen was really divided between complying to his lover’s requests and resisting it.

With that situation, he realized something:

More than desperate for the compliments, Arthur was deadly afraid of making Francis mad. He just couldn’t explain it, but it was like he was terrified of making him remotely displeased. Even if he KNEW that Francis was wrong and that his requests were somehow immoral, and even if he was CERTAIN that the Frenchman could never hurt him, he was always scared.

He still refused to comply with said requests, but every single time he felt a shiver of fear running his spine.

Francis would smile sadly and shrug. Nowadays, his smile seemed to be slowly becoming a grin of anger to Arthur, but he was not sure if it was his mind full of fear or if Francis was really was getting mad at him.

Another month passed like that.

Another month with the drought.

If the situation was dire before, now it was chaos.

The number of theft and aggression was skyrocketing.

People, for example, were now avoiding the roads like the plague, because of thieves, murders and cannibals.

There was no jobs, especially for two foreigners scavengers.

Sometimes they didn’t had anything to eat. Other times they would steal food (those were the only occasions that Arthur was still doing it, so they wouldn’t starve). Francis would always insist to the English teen to take the biggest share of their food.

\- You are younger. You need it more, _mon ange_ [French: my angel]. – that was his only justification.

The situation was so dangerous that Francis was insisting and even demanding that Arthur would stay away while he looked for jobs. In the beginning, the younger refused and tagged along. But after the third fight that he picked for motives that even Arthur recognized that were silly and stupid, he decided that it was for the best if the most diplomatic member of the duo went to find jobs.

It seemed that things would continue to be like that for a while.

Arthur sighed.

 

* * *

  **Day 101**

**I’m more than worried.**

**Francis didn’t seemed to be becoming thin yet, even if he is eating too little. But I still worry that he will pass out soon. From exhaustion or hunger. He shouldn’t put me first every single time. He is human too. He needs food.**

**He call me stubborn, but he is even more stubborn ~~most of the times~~ sometime.**

**I saw Lily Weaver today.**

**She spit on my direction.**

**Her sister, Myrtle, said her to save her spit because I’m nor worth it.**

**It is insane the way they are treating us.**

**I wish there was rain, and yet I feel like things are not going to change so soon.**

* * *

 

He sighed and watched the field.

Arthur was sitting nearby an abandoned house close to Flag Village. Closer enough to be safe from the crimes on the road but distant enough so he wouldn’t have anybody to pick a fight with.

The dry wind moved the tall grass in a natural ballet. The air was also dry, making it difficult to breathe sometimes. The plants were withering and some were dying.

Their situation was terrible too, for reasons already shown.

He sighed one more time.

\- How to fix this? - he asked to no one in particular.

To his surprise, he got an answer.

\- Isn’t a little too ambitions to want to fix the weather?

The voice came from above him and startled Arthur.

He looked up and found the talking crow on the house’s roof.

\- You are back! – the teenager said in surprise.

The crow grunted.

\- Not by my own will, you insolent child.

Arthur looked away in shame.

\- I’m sorry for that.

\- Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

\- But… if you don’t want to be here, why are you here?

Another grunt.

\- My master is asking which way will you follow.

\- Way?

\- Yes, Arthur Kirkland. What will you do next? How to change an immutable situation?

Arthur looked up, thinking in one answer.

\- I… I don’t know… - he answered at last – I really need some help. Could you help me? – he bit his lips – Please?

The bird made an annoyed sound.

\- I wouldn’t help you even if I could, insolent child.

The teenager bowed his head in defeat and still ashamed of his behavior the last time he had met the crow.

\- However, - it continued – my master alerted me that this could happen. And he gave me an answer for you.

Arthur blinked.

\- How could he know that I would request help?

\- My master know lots of things about everything. Now, do you want the help or not?

\- Yes, please. – he answered eagerly.

The crow flapped his wings.

\- Go to Creek Hamlet today and convince your lover-boy to go with you.

\- Why? What is in Creek Hamlet today?

In an annoyed way, the crow grunted again.

\- You surely ask a lot of annoying questions.

\- But I need to know how this can help my situation in any way.

\- Just go there, boy.

The human frowned.

\- No. I won’t. Unless you tell me why.

\- You asked for help and now you are questioning it?

\- Well, I don’t know who your master is or what purpose he has in helping me. And you are clearly angry with me. With all the reasons in the universe, that is true, but you still seems like you would want some revenge.

The crow stared at him for a while before nodding.

\- You do have a point. I would love to take your gorgeous eyes out and make your boyfriend eat them. However, I’m on my master’s service in this unforgiven land, and he wants to help you. He has been helping you in many ways, some that you still don’t know about. That is why he is sending me to talk to you all those times. Trust him, not me.

Arthur blinked in surprise again.

\- Thank you for your honesty, I guess?

The bird snorted.

\- Always.

\- But who is your master and why he wants to help me?

\- If you go to Creek Hamlet, you will meet him this afternoon. After… - he made a grave pause – Well, after whatever will happen.

\- How can your master know all this?

\- As I said before, my master know lots of things about everything. Including the future. – he sighed – Especially the future.

And he flew away to the clear sky, leaving Arthur wondering.

Who was that mysterious benefactor? What did he want from him? And what kind of good deeds had he done so far?

Still lost in thoughts and questions, he updated his journal with those new and bizarre developments.

He looked to the cloudless skies again.

What other choice did he have?

There was no job for them in Flag Village, and the water was becoming more and more scarce. Maybe near the River the situation was better?

They probably would need to avoid the roads, since they were full of criminals and cannibals nowadays, and they probably would need to spend some of his last economies paying an inn to stay for the night. But maybe they should go to Creek Hamlet to look for better living conditions.

(Depending on the situation, maybe they should even move there for a while).

That plan left Arthur with high spirits. He excitedly waited for Francis to come back.

The Frenchman was frowning when he got near that abandoned house. Unfortunately, that was a common occurrence during those difficult times. Francis had a perpetual worried frown on his handsome face. Arthur always got a little annoyed that Francis was acting as if he was the only one who needed to provide for the two of them.

\- Any luck? – Arthur asked after they kissed each other hello.

Francis shook his head and sat beside his boyfriend, cuddling with him almost immediately.

The younger just hug back and smiled pleased when the older sighed tiredly.

\- People are getting more and more aggressive. – Francis said – Some even threatened me when I got closer to talk to them.

\- Poor poppet!

The Frenchman sighed dramatically.

\- I’m not a bad person, _mon amour_ [French: my love]. I don’t deserve to be treated this way. – he whined.

Arthur rolled his eyes and chuckled.

\- Of course not, poppet.

\- Don’t be an ass… - he whined back.

The English teen laughed and patted Francis.

His hands were a little sweaty and he felt a little nervous.

Arthur was going to take the crow’s master’s suggestion to go to Creek Hamlet. It was the best course of action on their situation: to go where there should be more water. However, he was certain that if he said anything about that being the crow’s idea (or the crow’s master’s idea), Francis would refuse. And Arthur wanted two things: to make things better and to find out what did the crow meant (if he was really going to meet the mysterious master).

(What could he say? He was a curious cat).

Arthur started to run his fingers through Francis’s silky and golden hair.

\- Francis, I was thinking about our situation.

The Frenchman hummed pleased with closed eyes.

\- And I was thinking that we should try to go to Hamlet Creek for a while.

The older one opened his blue eyes and stared at the younger.

\- Why Hamlet Creek?

\- It has the River. It probably is not suffering just as much with the drought as the rest of the land.

Francis scratched the beard on his chin.

\- Fair point. We can leave tomorrow.

\- Why not today?

\- Why today?

Arthur fidgeted a little.

\- Well, we barely have food here, Francis. And I really doubt people on Flag Village will be in a share mood tonight with us.

Francis sighed tiredly.

\- Another fair point, _mon ange_ [French: my angel].

\- If there is water, it must be more food and less angry people. And I’m really not looking forward to go to bed hungry again. So, I don’t know about you, but it really seems like the best plan and I’m probably going there right now.

Francis laughed.

\- Without even a plan, _mon amour_? But the roads are dangerous right now!

\- Fight me, Francis!

Now, the Frenchman was guffawing.

\- _Sacrebleu_! I must go with you, before you kill yourself on the fury road!

\- MEET ME ON THE PIT, BONNEFOY!

They agreed that they didn’t had enough for a room on any inn, so they would rely for the last hour lobby reservations (it was not the best, but it was what they could afford). On the next morning, if the situation in Hamlet Creek was better than Flag Village, they would look for easy jobs and for an unoccupied house to fortify and hide for the night (they probably would end up using only one room a time until they could barricade the whole house). Also, they agreed on travelling outside the roads to try to avoid criminals.

They depart at ten o’clock in the morning.

The walk to Hamlet Creek would take five hours. It was a little distant, but on the bright side they could have a better condition to live and it would left them time to see how things were there (in case it was the same as Flag Village, they would depart back on the next morning).

It probably would take more time than what they had predicted, because they were walking outside the roads, on the tallgrass. But it was ok, more secure.

Arthur was on his high spirits. He and Francis were walking hand in hand and talking in quiet whispers. The also had agreed not to call attention to them in any way. They would need to keep quiet in case some criminal was in the middle of the road.

But it was nice to be moving with his boyfriend to a place with better conditions.

Even if the sun was high and the air was dry, they were enjoying themselves, whispering and giggling like two kids on an adventure through the playground. A deliciously pleasant day with holding hands, kisses and whispered conversations. Even if the journey was long and quite tedious, they were so engrossed on their conversation that they barely noticed (and they knew from their previous experiences that after the conversation died down, they would fall into a sweet and pleasant silence with stolen kisses here and there).

Two lovebirds in honeymoon.

The grass was tall most of the time on the field (except near some of the houses). The top of the leaves were still green, but the roots were beginning to become yellow. They were taking lots of water with them, and they were drinking periodically. The air was really dry, and there wasn’t one single cloud on the sky.

Even if they were trying to be careful and to pay attention to their surroundings, they got sloppy.

Very sloppy.

They had just kissed again (and both were giggling) when a rough voice break that lovely afternoon spell.

\- Dawww… isn’t that adorable, guys? – he said in a mocking tone.

The couple immediately entered into alert mode. Francis picked his machete, Arthur his axe.

A man showed up in front of him. He was white and had dirty blond hair. He was tall and had all the deformities that the people around that land had. Another four men showed up around him, coming from the tall grass. All of them were chuckling darkly.

\- We don’t have anything of value with us and we don’t want any trouble. – Francis said in a calm tone, trying to be diplomatic.

\- Oh, really? – the blond said with a dark chuckle – So why are you two so defensive?

\- I don’t know, - Arthur said with sarcasm – why you assholes surrounded us?

The men laughed darkly. Francis shot Arthur a displeased look (that he usually casted only when Arthur had done something reckless that would end up in a fight and that Francis would probably scold him later).

\- The punk has a nice tongue.

They laughed again.

Francis frowned.

\- We don’t want trouble.

\- Neither do I, kid, that is why – he pulled a gun from behind him – the two of you will give me your blades and come with us quietly. If one try to do something funny, I’ll shot the other one, do you understand?

Arthur gritted his teeth. Francis was pale and nodded.

\- Yes, we do.

Those men took their weapons and their bags before tying the couple’s hands with rough ropes. They laughed cruelly the whole time. Then, they forced the couple to follow them.

\- Where are you taking us!? – Arthur demanded to know.

They just laughed and ignored him, talking between themselves.

\- This younger one looks tastier.

\- And soft!

\- I still want his tongue.

Arthur felt his blood run cold.

He had heard the rumours of the type of criminals that were terrorizing the roads.

Cannibals.

The boy immediately started to look for ways to escape. However, the armed man was behind them, and the other men had their blades and weapons of their own.

His heart was beating fast, but he saw no way out of that deadly situation.

Francis was behind him. He was pale and his pupils were dilated with what seems to be fear and terror.

The men kept laughing and bragging, saying which part of the couple they would eat and how. They made the English teen walk, even if all what he wanted to do was run.

Run as far away as he could, taking Francis by the hand with him.

But he couldn’t.

They would just die.

The cannibals took them to a house in the middle of the field.

The house was barricaded against the Nightwalkers and it didn’t had a generator to illuminate the inside.

It was dark and it took a while to Arthur adjust his vision to the lightless interior. The house seemed to be a mess, even with people living there. There was bones and rubbish all around it. It smelled rotten, but the men didn’t seem to mind. There was few furniture (if Arthur needed to guess he would say that most of it was burned so the people wouldn’t freeze during the colder times). Overall, the few that he saw of the house seemed to be just an improvised camp to the cannibals.

There was more people in the house.

At least three women and four very young kids. They all had the same deformities that people had on that land inside the evil forest ring, that weird proportion between the distance of their eyes, the weirdly crocked and thin nose, the asymmetric lips and small recurrent scars on their faces. Their eyes light up when they saw the kidnapped couple enter the house.

\- Food? – one of the kids asked eagerly with a tiny smile.

The women looked more wary.

\- Where did you find those two? – the eldest asked eyeing the couple, giving Arthur an especial attention.

The man with the gun smirked.

\- On the field. Relax, Mary. They are foreigners and weird. Nobody will miss them.

She narrowed her eyes.

\- I’m more worried about them having diseases or worms. Did you checked them before bringing them?

\- How the fuck do you expect me to do that?

\- I don’t fucking know, Leon, but do you fucking expect to give the little ones diseases?

The blond with the gun looked down.

\- Sorry, ma’am. I was thinking with my stomach.

She rolled her eyes.

\- Again.

Francis gave her a shaky smile.

\- Well, ma’am, since you brought that issue to the conversation-

She cut him, as sharp as a knife in soft butter.

\- Let me guess, you suddenly have a disease.

\- I’m afraid that yes, I do. I got syphilis from him.

She stared at the Frenchman with a blank stare.

\- Undress the younger. – she ordered – Let’s check this on the alleged source of the disease.

Arthur prepared himself to try to defend from the invasive hands.

Francis got on front of him.

\- Stop. Don’t do that. – he said, still trying to keep the calmness on his voice.

Mary smirked.

\- Let me guess: you lied.

Francis didn’t answer.

She rolled his eyes.

\- Put them on the cage. – she ordered to the men – We will figure out what to do with them without them here.

Leon nodded.

\- Yes ma’am. – he smirked to the kidnapped couple – You heard the lady! Walk!

They were taken to a small room, the smallish and naked-ish of the bedrooms. There was absolutely no furniture, just a few hooks on the walls, crudely (but firmly) put there with strong nails. Francis and Arthur were tied up on said hooks with their arms above their heads, and the men left the room chuckling and closing the door behind them.

As soon as his arms were tied above his head, Arthur had a new flashback.

 

* * *

  _He was hungry._

_Oh, so hungry…_

_It was dark._

_He was on the basement._

_He would stay there for a while._

_Until the Man wanted him again…_

_There was no escape._

_He was tied up there._

_By the Gods… he was so scared and hungry…_

_He just wanted all that to be over…_  

* * *

 

 

 

He felt his sweat run cold for one second with that memory.

There was a similar level of fear.

Did the Man threaten his life before?

There was no time to question himself about that or anything else.

Their situation was dire.

Extremely dire.

They would die if nothing changed right now.

“Why did I even listened to that stupid crow?” Arthur asked himself, trying to find a culprit for his imminent death. He smacked his own head to the wall behind him before trying to get loose of the ropes.

But his effort were fruitless.

Meanwhile, his lover was quiet.

Too quiet.

\- Francis… - Arthur stated, swallowing the fear on his throat – I’m so, so sorry…

\- Please, don’t.

Arthur closed his mouth. Some tears made their way to his eyes. Francis had his eyes closed and a frown on his forehead and lips.

Was he mad at Arthur?

The English teen didn’t know.

All he knew was that he didn’t want to die (again) with his beloved mad at him.

\- I’m… I’m sorry… - he said weakly, fighting over the tears.

Francis opened his eyes. His frown melted as soon as he spotted the sadness and regret on Arthur’s eyes.

\- No! No! No! I’m not mad at you, _mon amour_! – he opened a shaken smile – I know that it wasn’t your fault. You were only trying to think about us, and I love you for that.

Arthur swallowed his wish to tell him that it was the crow’s master idea to go to Hamlet Creek, not his. The English teen knew that he was being egotistical and a liar for keeping that information from Francis on that moment.

But, by God… he just wanted to feel loved one more time…

Just one more time before…

Before…

Death.

He swallowed again.

\- I love you. – he said earnestly.

At least that wasn’t a lie, but one of the most real truths.

Francis smiled brightly, even if he was still pale as death itself.

\- _Je sais_ [French: I know].

Arthur laughed quietly and a few tears escaped his eyes.

\- Don’t you fucking Han Solo me on this moment.

He tried to dry his tears on his shoulder.

Francis used his foot to touch Arthur’s foot (the only interaction that that position allowed them).

\- Please… Don’t cry… I swear that we will get through this alive. No matter what I have to do, I’ll get us out.

Without success, the younger tried to swallow his tears. Once again he questioned himself on why he had listened to that damn crow.

\- It is my fault. I’m so, so sorry!

The Frenchman smiled gently, that smile that was only destined to Arthur and Arthur alone.

\- I doesn’t matter, _mon ange_. I will love you forever. Even after I expire, I will love you.

Arthur cried quietly, trying to swallow his own tears the whole time (he felt like he had caused all that misfortune, so he felt like he didn’t deserved to cry for his own death).

Francis smiled shaky.

\- Please… Don’t cry… Sing me a song! You never sing me anything! Sing me something, please…

The English teen swallowed all what he could from his cry and complied to the request with a shaken and quiet voice.

\- I-I've heard there was a secret chord, That David played and it pleased the Lord, But you don't really care for music do you?

And he continued, sad and fighting tears. His voice wasn’t trained for singing in normal days. Now, scared for life and devastated, his voice was even more wonky.

Francis didn’t seemed to care.

He watched Arthur like a sinner would watch an angel sing: humble and emotive. Lovingly and scared, just as if Arthur’s voice was a blessing that he didn’t deserved.

They tried to break free from the ropes, but it was no use.

The room didn’t had anything to help them (it was bare and old, with only other three hooks on the walls and a barricaded window.

Arthur was almost finishing the song when they heard steps on the hall coming back there.

The door opened with a loud bang when it hit the wall.

Leon and his friends were smirking.

\- Get up! It is your luck day!

One of his friends laughed.

\- At least, it is the luck day for only one of you.

Leon had the gun on his belt, easy to pick if the scavenger couple tried to escape. Also, they were tied up and unarmed.

There was no way out of that.

Arthur and Francis were dragged to the biggest room in the house. The women were already there. Two of them were smiling while Mary rolled her eyes.

\- Is this really necessary?

Leon smirked.

\- Come, on! It will be fun!

The men untied the couple. They gave Arthur and Francis their blades back and step back. They were arranged in a circle around the couple.

Leon picked his gun and smirked.

\- Gentlemen, the rules are simple: the two of you will fight to death with each other. The winner can walk, the loser… - he grinned – Well, we all know what will happen to the loser.

The group laughed.

Arthur felt like he would throw up.

No.

No.

Nonononono!

NO!

He couldn’t! He couldn’t do that.

He could feel the blood draining from his face and his limbs becoming shaky.

The cannibals laughed.

\- Look at him! He has no chance.

And they laughed and laughed. The sound seemed to be so loud on the terrified boy’s ears.

\- Come on! – Leon said pointing the gun to them – FIGHT!

Francis was pale and serious, looking all around the room before focusing on Arthur’s face. His expression was determined.

The English teen had no time to even doubt Francis’s intentions before the Frenchman stepped in front of him. He was facing Leon and blocking the gun.

\- Like fucking hell we are going to do that. – Francis said with venom in his voice.

The group booed.

Leon glared at Francis.

\- Turn around and fight or I will shoot both of you.

The French young man took a step in the direction of the ringleader.

\- _Ta Gueule_! [French: Shut the fuck up!]

\- I’m warning you! – Leon took a step back.

Francis just kept advancing.

\- I’m gonna shoot you! – he pointed the gun directly to Francis’s forehead.

The Frenchman just took the last steps and pressed his head into the gun barrel.

Leon was trembling and all the others were silent.

\- DO IT! – Francis screamed with anger.

By reflex, Leon pressed the trigger.

A hollow and soft sound was heard.

A gun out of bullets.

A wave of relief took Arthur.

They could escape!

Everything would be fine!

But before he could open his mouth to claim their freedom back, Francis acted.

He swung his machete with a swift movement chopping Leon’s hand off.

There was a second of shocked silence.

Then the room exploded in motion.

The other men were desperately trying to grab their own blades to attack while the women and children were trying to flee. But the room seemed to be completely locked.

With the grace of a professional dancer, Francis stabbed the closest person to him, picking the machete again and getting ready to strike. His next victim was no other than Mary.

She screamed, but the Frenchman showed no mercy, cutting her arm like it was made of butter. The blood covered his face and clothes. Then he stuck the machete on her chest, killing her almost immediately.

By this time, the men were already running to attack Francis.

Francis smirked in a wicked way.

That was when the real slaughter begun.

Arthur took steps back until he hit the wall. Then he slid and sat on the floor, holding his knees in a scared way, trying to be as invisible as he could. He was unable to stop staring to what was happening.

They all attacked Francis, and Francis would dodge easily and attack back, cutting and butchering them.

He stabbed one of the men, then grinned and giggled. The Frenchman was covered in blood and his eyes had a maniac shine that made the blue contrast and highlight in the middle of his bloodied face.

The others hesitated. Their expressions were pale and wide-eyed. The women and children were screaming and crying, trying to open one of the doors to get away.

Francis released a gleeful war cry and struck again.

The group desperately tried to escape through the doors or to find some form of shelter against the attack.

But it was no use.

There was screaming.

There was blood.

No one was spared.

Not even the children.

The kids released the most terrified pitch screams. Those screams were now recorded forever in Arthur’s head and nothing would erase that.

The English teen just couldn’t take his eyes out of that scene.

He was horrified.

He was trembling.

Yet, his eyes were glued on Francis’s bloodied and wicked smile.

When the Frenchman finished slaughtering those people he was panting. His stance was ready to a new attack, but he was still smiling.

He looked around and realized that he had killed all that cannibal family.

His eyes were the only part of him clean. They were blue… so demonic blue in the middle of all that red.

His wicked smile turned into a psycho grin.

He started to giggle.

Then he broke into a cruel and maniacal laugh.

He laughed and laughed and laughed.

It echoed on the bare walls of that room.

Arthur covered his ears, trying to block that deafening and berserk sound.

He didn’t recognized that Francis.

That demon with the form of a man that he loved.

He didn’t recognized it.

Who was that monster?

 

* * *

  _Arthur watched with pleasure the life burn out behind her eyes._

_He giggled._

_“And now” he said to the corpse “to the main attraction of the night”._

_He was having a hard time to keep his giggles to himself._

_There was a mirror there when he turned around._

_He was covered on those pigs’ blood._

_Half of his face was deformed._

_His eyes…_

_How delightfully green they were!_

_The demon with the green eyes._

_He couldn’t help it._

_He broke into a cruel and maniacal laugh._

_He laughed and laughed and laughed._

_A laugh that came from his guts._

_The laugh of a monster._

_A demon._

_The Demon with Green Eyes._

* * *

 

It seemed like Arthur’s mind was rebooted after that memory.

He sprinted past the laughing Francis.

The door opened by his lightest touch and he kept sprinting.

In the back of his mind, Arthur was sure that he heard the Frenchman stopping laughing and calling for him.

But he didn’t care.

He was too terrified to stop now.

He sprinted to the front door of the house. Again, it opened as soon as he touched it. And he kept running.

It was dark outside, with the sky full of gray clouds. As soon as he left the building, a thunder was heard nearby. It started to mizzle not long after that, but he didn’t stopped or cared.

He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Arthur wouldn’t dare to look behind him. He was too scared and he didn’t know exactly why.

Like a scared prey animal, he just kept running and running.

The drizzle become rain, soaking the running teenager.

He only stopped when his legs gave up on him from complete exhaustion. He felt in de middle of the field, completely wet, out of breath and trembling. For the first time, Arthur dared to look behind him. To his relief, he couldn’t see Francis at all.

He throw up. He didn’t know why.

Was he afraid of Francis madness or his own memory?

What was scarier: The demon with the blue eyes on that weird land in between the dark forest or the demon with green eyes inside his own memories, his own mind?

It was almost as if he could hear the demon giggling inside him. Arthur felt like crying of joy and of pain at the same time, in a mad mix that he couldn’t recognize or comprehend. It was exhausting.

In his frenzy to get away from the Frenchman, he had gotten close to the woods.

Trembling, exhausted and confused, Arthur crawled like a little toddler until he was under the nearest tree, seeking for shelter from the pouring rain.

He hugged his knees and cried.

He sobbed like a baby, with his thoughts turning and turning from the turmoil going on inside his mind.

Arthur would give anything for a way to numb that pain and confusion and madness from his mind.

He didn’t know for how long he stayed there.

It seemed like a long time.

Or a short one.

He was not sure.

He was not sure of anything.

He heard steps after a while.

He felt himself reacting, even if he didn’t remembered reacting at all.

Gilbert and his little yellow bird were walking on his direction under a black umbrella.

\- You shouldn’t be in the rain, _junge_ [German: boy]. You will get sick.

Arthur just stared at him.

It seemed so surreal that Gilbert was there, calmly telling him not to be in the rain because he was worried that he would get ill.

The yellow bird stared at Arthur.

\- Are you sure there wasn’t a better way to do it? – the bird asked Gilbert – Even I am pitying him right now.

Not only the bird was talking but Arthur recognized the voice.

It was the crow.

\- You! – he accused staring at the yellow bird – You told me to go to Hamlet Creek!

\- Actually… - right in front of English teen’s eyes, the bird become the black crow – Gilbert, my master, was the one who suggested that to you. I was just the messenger.

\- Don’t be so formal, Gilbird. – Gilbert caressed the crow with his free hand – I’m hardly your master.

Arthur stared at the hooded albino with anger.

\- You KNEW that would happen! You KENW that Francis would… Francis…

Gilbert sighed and crouched near Arthur, protecting him with his big black umbrella.

\- Yes. I had predicted that it was a strong possibility that you two would be captured and that Francis would end up snapping. I just presented you with the possibility. The choice was still yours.

\- You didn’t told me that it would happen!

\- No, I didn’t.

\- What is your fucking point!? To try to separate me from Francis!? Congratu-fucking-lations! Now fuck off! Leave me alone!

\- Oh no, Arthur Kirkland. It was never my intention to break you two apart. Actually, I really want the two of you to be together.

The teenager looked away.

\- Well, you are doing a very poor job on it.

There was a thunder nearby.

The crow cawed.

\- I TOLD you that it was a terrible idea.

Gilbert sighed.

\- _Ja_. But it was the best way.

There was an angry silence.

\- Arthur, I’m really sorry. It was never my intention to cause you any form of harm. Nor it was my intention to keep you and Francis apart. I needed that to happen so I could bring the rain back.

Arthur looked at him again. His anger and turmoil made it easier to ignore the hood over the albino’s eyes.

\- What the fuck do you mean with this shit?

Gilbert smiled apologetic.

\- It may seems unlikely, but if that hadn’t happen, I wouldn’t be able to make rain again.

\- Make it rain? How the fuck can anyone make rain?

\- That is a question that I cannot answer today, but…

He moved his free arm to the rain. Another thunderbolt fell, this time directly to Gilbert’s extended arm. The electricity concentred itself on the palm of his hand before he closed it and made the blue electric power disappear.

Arthur stared at him with awe and fear.

\- Who are you?

Gil chuckled.

\- I think the best question would be “what are you”, but I cannot answer that either. Not now at least, but it is on my “to do” list to tell you this truth very soon.

The teenager swallowed.

\- You are not human, are you?

\- No, and I never was, _junge_ , but that doesn’t change the fact that I basically think and feel like one.

\- Why are you doing this?

\- And what exactly is “this”, Arthur Kirkland?

Arthur open and closed his mouth.

There was another silence.

Gil waited patiently to Arthur collect his thoughts.

\- Am I in hell?

\- No, because there is no such thing as an actual hell. Heaven and Hell are subjective. If you asked me, _junge_ , I would say that your life before this was the real hell.

\- So I am really dead?

\- In a way, yes, you are. But, as you may have noticed, death is not something absolute.

\- What do you mean?

Gilbert sighed.

\- You see, life and death are more like a really, really, REALLY big and complex cycle of recycling souls. I would explain more, but believe when I say that you will see that someday with your own eyes.

\- When?

\- One day in the future.

\- Let me guess: when it is convenient for you? – Arthur glared at him – You are only using me.

\- In a way, yes, I am using you. I will not deny it. But that is not all.

\- What the fuck do you want from me?

Gilbert stared at him for a while before answering. It was unsettling as always, because his eyes seemed to be burning Arthur, even if they were hidden under the hood.

\- I need you for two thing, and I want to give you a third. The first thing is that you will be of fundamental importance to me to get someone that I love back.

\- How so?

\- The second thing is that you are an important part of saving the whole world, even if you are not aware of that yet.

Arthur snorted. Gil continued.

\- And the third thing, the thing I want to give you, is that you and Francis should be together.

\- You are doing a very poor job at it.

The albino smiled.

\- On the contrary, Arthur. Everything is exactly where I needed them to be. Although I want you and Francis to be together, I don’t want to your relationship to be based on lies, deception and manipulation.

\- But I was happy before! I didn’t need to see Francis… to see him…

The words got caught on his throat, and he felt like crying again.

Gilbert caressed Arthur’s hair sympathetically.

\- Happiness based on ignorance isn’t real happiness, _junge_. Ignorance hardly is bliss. If anything, it is dangerous.

The teenager swallowed.

\- Do you think that Francis could hurt me?

\- Oh, not at all. I bet my life that he would prefer to die before letting anything bad happens to you or before causing any harm to you.

\- How can you be so sure?

Gil smiled.

\- I have known Francis for a long time. A stupid long time. We used to be best friends.

\- But you are not anymore?

\- We… had a fight. Another thing that I will explain to you in another day. But what matter now, _junge_ , is that even if he had turned his back on me, I haven’t turn mine to him. I want the two of my favourite people, you and he, to be happy in a healthy way, and I know as a matter of fact that you will only reach a level of happiness that I find adequate if you two are together.

\- So am I only a prize for Francis?

\- Not at all. If that was the case, don’t you agree that I wouldn’t need to fulfil you with the truth or that I wouldn’t need to intervene? – he smiled again – Let me be very clear about this: I really care about you, Arthur Kirkland. I care and love you just like you are my own family and blood. Even more than some of my own family and blood. And although I need you to reach to some goals, I still care about your wellbeing.

Arthur blinked slowly.

\- Why do you care so much about me?

Gil sighed again.

\- Unfortunately, this is an answer that will take a while for me to give you. But believe me when I say that I care about you and about Francis and I care about making your relationship be as healthy and even as possible. – he smirked – Think about me like your personal matchmaker.

The teenager looked down.

\- But there is no use for this now. I don’t know if I can go back to him ever again.

Gilbert put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

\- I’m not asking you to forgive, forget and ignore that dark side of Francis. Confront him. Show why he is wrong and why he should change! Right now, Francis is layered. Beneath his charming and gentle facade, there is a ruthless and careless demon. But beneath that demon, there is a good person. A person that had been hurt and broken. A person that took all that pain and used to fuel his anger and because of that, he made some horrible choices on his life. However, that broken person still loves you with all the strength of his broken heart.

\- So… you want me to cure his broken heart?

\- No, absolutely not, Arthur. I would never request that to anybody because healing someone else’s heart is impossible. Every person is responsible for their own pain and their own healing. What I am asking you is to give him support while he is picking the pieces of himself.

Arthur sighed.

\- Why do I have the impression that we are not talking only about Francis?

Gilbert chuckled.

\- Smart boy, smart boy. Indeed: I want him to do the same thing to you. He had this stupid idea that he can fix you on his twisted way.

\- And that is why he was manipulating me.

\- _Ja_ , yes. Exactly. But he would only be destroying you even further. The best thing for the two of you is to be together and giving each other support while the two of you are healing. And that is what I ask you, Arthur Kirkland. Because in the end it is still your choice. I am asking you to choose the best option.

The English teen swallowed in fear.

\- But, what if I am bad on the inside? What if I’m just like him?

The albino smiled kindly.

\- You are a hot mess, Arthur Kirkland. A hot mess, but I’m sure that you are not evil. You are a good boy who was pushed beyond anyone’s breaking point. You gave up a part of yourself to protect someone, and that decision left marks on you.

\- Who was I trying to protect?

\- That… Well, that is something that you will answer me someday.

He smiled.

\- Now, it is best if we get you out of the rain.

Gilbert stood up and offered his hand to help Arthur do the same.

\- I still have questions. – the English teenager said stubbornly staring at the albino from the ground.

\- And I’ll answer more of those soon.

\- How soon?

Gilbert tapped his chin.

\- Hum… In 48 days.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

\- 48 days?

\- Yes. Give or take 2 day, but 48 days is my prevision.

\- How can you be so precise?

Gil grinned.

\- I know the possibilities to the future.

\- So you can predict the future?

He barked a laugh.

\- As a matter of fact, I can, Arthur Kirkland. And I’ll answer to your questions in 48 days, give or take 2 days.

\- Why not now?

\- There is some things that I need to happen before it. But, don’t worry, I will give you more answers.

\- Not all of them.

Gilbert grinned.

\- Smart boy, smart boy. Yes, not all. I will give you all the answers you seek, but on the right moments. Otherwise, things will not go as it was planned.

\- Planned by whom?

The albino only smiled.

Arthur groaned and accepted the offered hand.

His legs were wobbly and he felt dizzy.

\- Can you walk? – Gilbert asked worriedly.

\- I think that yes… but not for too long…

\- Don’t worry, we are not going very far.

Gil helped Arthur walk and they went to the road. After a ten minutes’ walk, they got to an inn.

Arthur and Francis had already stayed on said in, but now Arthur didn’t have anything to trade to be there.

Gilbert opened the door as if he owned the place.

\- I want your best room and a towel for this boy. – he ordered.

People cowered.

\- Yes sir! Right away, sir!

Arthur stared at him while the owners ran to comply.

\- How did you do that? Why did they obeyed you?

The albino smirked.

\- I’ll answer in 48 days, _junge_.

The innkeeper came back with a green fluff towel that he offered Arthur with a smile.

\- The boy will spend the night here. – Gil announced – Treat him in the same way you would treat me.

The innkeeper nodded and smiled.

\- Yes sir!

Gilbert turned to Arthur.

\- One last thing before I leave.

From the thin air, Gil made Arthur’s backpack appear.

At that point, almost nothing would surprise Arthur anymore.

\- Take a shower, eat something get some sleep, Arthur. Maybe update your journal, if you want. You always liked to write a lot. Tomorrow is another day and in 48 days I will unfold a big part of the mystery to you.

The English teen accepted the bag.

\- Are you going to leave me?

\- Yes, but don’t worry, you are in good hands. Now I need to talk to the other half of the duo. – he grimaced – Even if I know that Francis will not listening to me right now, I have to try. – he sighed – The things I do for love.

He started to walk towards the door.

\- Wait! – Arthur said – It will be dark soon. The monsters will destroy you!

Gilbert smirked.

\- I don’t need to be afraid of the night creatures. They have to be afraid of me.

And he left, leaving Arthur with even more doubts than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> Today is the last day for my deadline and here I am with a brand new chapter! 
> 
> YAY! \o/
> 
> This chapter was planned since the very beginning of the creation of this story. Even before I included Gilbert on the plot and gave him a significant role (a VERY significant role), this chapter in which Francis snapped was already on the plot.  
> I wanted Arthur to see Francis making this massacre because he needs to take a look on what is going on beneath the surface of that pretty face.  
> On the original idea, Arthur would still be completely under Francis's spell and would only snap out of if after this slaughter instead of snaping out of it because Gil gave him a memory. Honestly, I think it is better this way. Make his distrusting of Francis more gradual. 
> 
> Speaking of the slaughter, I'm really sorry that it is not that much descriptive. I kinda sucks at descriptions I guess... (at least in English. I'm ok at it in Portuguese). I'm trying to get better, but it was kind of too ambitions to try to write a carnage on this moment.  
> That is why I focused more on what Arthur was feeling. Frankly, that is the whole point of the chapter, so I guess it is ok. 
> 
> On the original concept of this chapter, Arthur would get only one memory, the "Devil with Green Eyes" memory, that is a continuation of the "How does it feel 'sis'" memory (you know, the one he kills his sister). But in the middle of the making of the chapter I realized that he needed another one, the "Tied up and hungry". Because some of his memories are triggered by similar situations and stimuli, and being terrified, hungry and tied to a wall was something that had already happened to him.  
> Other memories are triggered by things he see and that reminds his old self of some situations.
> 
> Gilbert's conversation with Arthur at the end was a little less of what I had imagined though. Like, they talked a lot more about Francis than what I had anticipated. I guess it makes sense, since Arthur had just witnessed Francis killing a bunch of people. It is just not what I had anticipated.  
> At least Gilbert had set a deadline inside the story for one of the big plot twists that I planned. It will be fun 83c  
> (It will take some chapters to get there, so just remain calm).
> 
> For me, I don't have ways to set a new deadline. Like, I'll have my finals next week (and I'm already freaking out a little) and I'll have to go visity my parents on my vacations. Once I'm at my parents, I will probably be able to write and write and write, but until I got there, I'm really with too little time.
> 
> EDIT: and I will probably start a new project too! Don't worry: I'm not quiting 'In Between'. I'll just do something at the same time. For those who are interested, I will re-write and continue the story 'Red and Hunter'. You can check it out on my works ;D
> 
> I'll try to update the next chapter until the end of June, but I'm not sure, ok?
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this story s2
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com among with A LOT of FrUk Stuff =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there).  
> (just be aware that drama can eclode on my blog from time to time)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	13. After the rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Down came the rain.   
> To clean a new path ahead.  
> A new beginning to Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gilbert: APH Prussia  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> [Stuff bolded] = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL  
> [Stuff in italic] = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING (A Romance Language custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English int his chapter that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> mon amour [French: my love]  
> junge [German: boy]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

It took a while to Arthur sleep that night.

Yes: the trauma of the day played a big part on that.

However, the main reason (that he only came to understand close to 00:23, after four hours tossing and turning) was that Francis was not there.

He would always feel calmer with Francis sleeping next to him.

And even if he was scared to death of his boyfriend, he would give anything to have him there.

Funny thing was that sometimes he could feel like he was. As if Francis was in fact there in the bed with him. The feeling was so real that at some moments he needed to open his eyes and turn his lantern on, just to make sure that he was alone in the room.

He needed Francis as much as he was scared of him.

How pathetic was that?

The worst part was that he didn’t even know if he should be afraid or not. Francis not even ever raised his voice to him. If anything, he was the most supportive and gentle boyfriend in the world.

And yet, Arthur was afraid.

Was he afraid of Francis or of himself, the demon that he saw on the memory?

He hadn’t even analysed his new memories yet. He was just too shaken to do it.

At 01:17, he decided to try to distract himself by writing something on his journal.

He started a story about a lonely jedi, trying to convince a lord sith to go to the light side of the Force. It was not a very good story, it needed a lot of improving (for example, he was not very satisfied with how the jedi and the sith fell in love, it was kinda hushed), but it was enough to make him fall asleep. He didn’t even knew why that story in particular.

He woke up at 6:30, as usual, with the alarm on his wrist watch.

There was a blanket over him, which was weird, since he didn’t remember covering himself. The door was still locked so he just shrugged. Maybe he just wasn’t remembering getting under it before falling asleep.

Arthur wanted to stay in bed for the whole day, listening to the soft rain that was still falling. However, he didn’t want to abuse his staying on the inn. Would Gilbert’s powers allow him to stay longer? He didn’t know. Because of that, he grudgingly stood up and got read to leave.

He was feeling weak and drained. He felt dizzy when standing up and still felt like throwing up.

The English teen took a deep breath.

\- One sheep… Two sheep… - he started to count, imagining the most fluffy little lamb that he could.

He needed to count sheep through all the time he got dressed and prepared himself.

When he got to the dining room, he noticed that the owner of the inn was in a very merry mood. He even let the boy have a big and nice breakfast.

\- It is the rain! – the fat inn keeper said – That means that people will travel again and that I will have guests again!

Arthur only nodded. He really wasn’t talkative that beginning of morning.

After breakfast, the rain gently stopped, but he was a loss of what to do.

He was in the middle of the way between Flag Village and Hamlet Creek.

Where he should go?

What should he do?

Well… there wasn’t much on Flag Village anyway. He was not feeling like going back.

Arthur sighed and begun his journey to Hamlet Creek.

It would take two hours walking alone. Although being on his own seemed like a horrible thing to do on his state, he hoped to be able to get by once he got to the small town.

His mind seemed to be only static.

As if he was a radio out of the station.

A frazzled mind with two walking feet: that was how he felt that whole morning.

Arthur tried to count sheep, but he lost count absurdly quick (on the 7th sheep).

He counted his steps and lost count many times.

He only came to his senses when he passed a lonely tree near the road.

\- Hey kid! – a known voice asked – Are you alright?

Arthur raised his eyes. His sight was unfocused, so it took a few seconds to see Gilbert’s yellow bird sitting on the closest branch.

\- Hi… - he answered quietly.

The magical-crow stared at him with pity.

\- You are still pretty shaken, aren’t you?

The teenager rubbed his eyes.

\- You have no idea. – he finally answered the bird.

\- Did you get any sleep?

\- A few… not much…

\- Having nightmares?

\- Not really… I was… missing something… someone…

Arthur bit his lips, desperate to talk to someone, but not wanting to talk to the weird bird.

The magical-crow nodded sympathetic.

\- I understand. Try not to force yourself too much today, ok?

The boy opened a small smile.

\- Ok… Thank you…

The bird seemed to beam.

\- Don’t mention it. Specially to Gilbert – he seemed to cringe – I would hate if he starts to call me mother hen.

The teenager nodded.

\- Can I ask you a question?

\- And when haven’t you asked me questions, boy? – he replied with good humour – Shoot, I’m an open book. As long that the answer don’t compromise my master’s plans, I will answer to you.

Arthur nodded again.

\- What kind of bird are you? Like, for real? Are you even a bird?

The bird seemed to think for a while on his answer.

\- I cannot explain exactly what I am right now. It is kind of part of my master’s plans to keep this information for another 47 days. But my real form is a Reichsadler, a majestic Imperial Eagle. – he seemed to beam with pride – The one who can fly on the highest heights.

The bird opened his yellow wings to try to show some majestic pose, but on that yellow bird form, it was just cute, not majestic.

\- Imperial Eagle?

\- Oh, yes. You probably had heard me being called a Golden Eagle too, but I prefer to keep my Prussian Imperial title, thank you very much. Although this is not my form right now. Right now I’m just a Wagtail. A Western Yellow Wagtail to be precise. – the Magical-Eagle finished with a small chuckle – It is more discrete.

\- Oh. I see. Will I ever see your true form? – Arthur asked.

The eagle shrugged.

\- Who knows? Well, probably my master.

\- And do you have a name?

\- Master called me Gilbird, so I’m rolling with it.

\- ‘Gilbird’? Pretty narcissistic.

Gilbird seemed to think for a small while.

\- Yes… and no… It is complicated.

Arthur sighed.

\- What is not complicated with Gilbert?

\- Well… I admit that from your point of view things may seem complicated now. But believe me: it will get better.

The English teen gave the magical-eagle a small smile.

\- Hope so.

\- Anyway, kid, Gilbert is asking two things for you. One is if you get some sleep. Which you did, but it wasn’t enough. And Two is if you write any story this night.

Arthur blinked.

\- Yes… In fact, I did. How did he know that?

\- Duh. He can see the future, remember?

\- Oh, right. – the teenager thought for a few moments (his mind was still slower than usual) – And why is he interested on the story?

\- This part he didn’t told me. But he asked if your story was about dragons. – Gilbird rolled his eyes – Let me guess: it has dragons?

\- Hum… - Arthur blinked in surprise – Actually, no. It has not.

The bird stared at him in shock.

\- Come again?

\- It was not about dragons… It was more like a Star Wars fanfiction.

Gilbird suddenly was in a frenzy.

\- What the… How could he… What… - he stared at Arthur again – I have to go. I NEED to tell my master this. Will you be fine on your own, Arthur?

The boy scratched him arms a little uncomfortable.

\- Can’t you stay with me?

\- I’m afraid I can’t. I’m sorry kid. But hey – he chipped a little – you will be fine! Everything will be alright at Hamlet Creek for you!

\- I… I still want some company…

Gilbird stared at him with sorrow.

\- I’m really sorry, but I REALLY need to talk to my master. I need to tell him that he is wrong. I never saw this happen before! – he stared at the human – You must be very special, Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur looked down.

\- I don’t feel special.

\- Oh, but you are. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Gilbird flapped his wings.

\- I gotta go! See you soon.

And he flew away leaving Arthur with doubts once again.

First of all, why was Gilbert so interested on his silly story?

Also, how could someone that predicts the future get something wrong?

Maybe because it was silly it was hard to predict?

Arthur sighed. He was too tired to keep thinking and wondering.

So he got back to counting his steps.

At least his talk with Gilbird made his mind more alert, like black coffee or like strong black tea.

The walk was quiet until near Hamlet Creek.

Near the town, he noticed a house with a note on the front door.

Arthur had already passed in front of that house many times before with Francis on their scavenger odd jobs. It was empty and it didn’t have anything of value. The rag on the door indicates that the last inhabitants were missing from weeks now (they had moved or worse).

He was curious about the note. Probably was nothing, but Arthur decided to take a look.

Surprisingly (or not) it was for him.

_Arthur,_

_This house is already barricaded and had a nice bed. Perfect for a new home for you._

_Just saying._

_\- Gil_

The English teen sighed and chuckled with humour.

Predicting the future probably had its perks.

Arthur quickly examined the house.

It was a small cabin in the middle of the field, very close to the road and not too far away from the little town (Hamlet Creek). It had a small room that could be used as a living room and dining room, a small kitchen with all the home appliances needed, a bedroom with a double bed (it had a mattress, but not a bedding) and big wardrobe and a small bathroom. On the outside, there was a generator room with a functional generator that would require gasoline. Gilbert had left another note near the machine.

_Francis knows the exact quantity of gasoline required to last through the night._

_Ask him._

_\- Gil_

A shiver ran down Arthur’s spine.

Was he ready to face the Frenchman?

He wasn’t sure.

The teenager hadn’t even stopped to analyse the new memories that he had. How could he be ready for that?

He rubbed his eyes in confusion and distress.

Maybe for tonight, he could just fill the machine to the brim with gasoline and figure out later how much he would really need. He didn’t even know if he would be able to buy gasoline!

Arthur decided to focus on what he needed on the moment: food, some candles, a new lock for the door and an orange rag (the colour of the week) to tie in front of the house. He would probably need to work his way out of that situation, even if all what he wanted was to lie on the double bed and sleep.

\- Get a grip, Kirkland. – he said to himself – Once you get all the items of your check list, you can take easy.

He left the house and re-started walking to Hamlet Creek.

Hamlet Creek seemed to be more bustling than usual. Probably, many people had moved there because of the drought too. Also, with yesterday’s heavy rain, the River water level probably had become higher and the dam was probably needing some repairs.

Perfect for a young man to find some job!

His first job was with a fisherman who was having trouble with all the fish that he and his crew had caught that morning. Arthur helped them to unload the boats in exchange of some of the fish. Then, Arthur used half of the fish to buy some ice and some potatoes. The ice was to put on his refrigerator, since he didn’t have the power yet to turn it on. He took a small trip to his new house to put away his food.

Ok, he already had food for the dinner. He still needed to buy cooking oil and salt for the cooking, though. He had no idea how to spice anything correctly, so he would just use the salt. He could make some fish and chips.

His second job of the day was to help repair some of the boats of a shipping company that had broken during the storm. His duty was to find the material and make the arrangements to buy them on the market while the repair people worked. The lady that owned the company didn’t trusted someone so young near her boats, but that was ok. Arthur was a scavenger, and if there was something that a scavenger knew was how to spot the best business opportunity in a market. The lady was pleased with his work, and gave him three bottles with gasoline as a payment (1,5 litre, which was a lot of gasoline on those hard times).

It was not enough to fuel the generator, so Arthur exchange one of the bottles at the local locksmith for a new keyhole and key.

Now his house was secure.

By that time, it was midday and the teenager was starving. He could buy some more food and cook, but he honestly wasn’t feeling like cooking more than necessary. So he used another bottle of gasoline to buy some food at a local cooked food stall (some steak with grave and mashed potatoes. Luckily, he got a bottle of water too).

He was enjoying his meal sitting at the Wet Plaza, hear the river, when someone got closer to him.

Someone familiar.

Arthur’s blood run cold when Francis got close to him.

Francis smiled sheepishly.

\- Hi…

He had a bouquet of flowers on his hand, but that doesn’t made Arthur more calm at all.

\- Get away from me. – he said, trying to sound extra confident.

Francis cringed.

\- _Mon amour_ [French: My love], please… let me explain…

\- There is nothing to explain. Get away.

\- Arthur, please…

Arthur stood up holding his plate of food.

\- Get! Away!

And he walked to another place to sit and finish eating.

He was still not ready to face Francis.

Just the thought of that made him feel shaken and made his blood run cold in fear. He wasn’t emotionally ready for that. He just wasn’t.

So he got away from Francis the best he could.

The afternoon was divided between avoiding Francis and getting the rest of the items of his list.

He got other two odd jobs helping a mechanic to fix some of the boat motors and helping at a stationary homely production (this second one might even become a regular thing). Also, Arthur got more food (a few small carrots, some flour and rice), the cooking oil (sunflowers oil), salt, the candles and the orange rag. He even got a pillow, a blanket and some bedding.

The English teen also got some items that he could exchange on the next day for new clothes (he wasn’t really motivated to go back to Flag Village to get his stuff. He was already with his favourite hoodie, so the other clothes were not important for him).

Francis seemed to be following Arthur around the whole time, pleading with his eyes to the English boy to let him in again.

Arthur kept glaring at him and sending him away whenever the Frenchman tried to approach.

That first night on his new house was lonely. Some monsters started to bang his bathroom window, calling his name (the creatures had that weird ability to know and call people’s name). It was startling to say the least. But most of all, he missed Francis. He missed having the Frenchman’s arms around him. Even his teasing was dearly missed. He kept wondering if Francis was alright, if he had enough stuff to find an inn or if he had found a new house himself.

It took a while for him to sleep again, so he continued his silly story about Star Wars. When he decided that it was enough and he laid down on bed again, he could feel as if Francis was there with him again. This time he embraced the feeling and fell asleep very quickly.

On the next morning, Arthur found out that it wasn’t a clever idea to use the fridge as an ice box. Now he needed to spend a lot of time drying his floor AND his fridge AND get rid of the fishy smell.

While he was cleaning his kitchen, he heard a knock on his door.

A little confused, he went to see who was knocking.

Gilbert had a smirk on his face when the teenager opened the door.

\- Let me guess: the fridge is not a good icebox. – the albino asked in a mischievous tone.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

\- At this point, I don’t even know why I am still surprise that you know this.

Gil chuckled.

\- You’ll get used to it.

\- So, what are you doing here, Gil?

\- Well, _junge_ [German: boy], in case you don’t remember, I work on Hamlet Creek’s market on Saturdays.

\- Oh! Right! I totally forgot!

Gilbert chuckled.

\- I just thought about checking on you before heading to the market.

Arthur shrugged.

\- I think I’m doing ok. – he cringed – Except for the fridge thing.

The albino laughed.

\- I should have left you a third note. Anyways, how are things with Francis?

The boy lowered his eyes.

\- Gil, I know that you want us to be together…

\- Don’t worry, Arthur. – Gilbert grinned – Do it on your own time. I just was curious. Did he show up with flowers or did he fall on his knees in front of you begging?

The English teen rolled his eyes.

\- Aren’t you the psychic?

\- The future is not a thing set in stone, Arthur Kirkland. – he smirked – There are many possibilities and paths.

Arthur raised one eyebrow.

\- Then how can you say that you predict the future?

\- Well, I can see the possibilities ahead, and then direct the events to the end that I need.

\- So you take away the choices from people?

Gilbert smirked again.

\- Oh, no, Arthur. Absolutely not. I just suggest the right path to people. I’m just really old and experienced, which makes my suggestions very… subtle. – he gave Arthur a tender look (which was unsettling under the hood) – I never took your abilities or possibilities to choose. I just showed you new evidences… different paths from what you have seen before.

He smiled pleased with himself before continuing.

\- Speaking of the future, what about your story?

Arthur cringed.

\- Gilbird told you?

\- Yeah he did.

\- Where is he, by the way?

\- On another mission. But I still want to know about your story.

The teenager blushed.

\- It is silly. Why you are so interested on a silly story?

\- Oh, Arthur…

Gilbert gave him a very intense stared with a mysterious smile.

\- You will find in the future that it is not silly at all. You see, if you had made any story that involved a dragon, I would know that you were just expressing your fears and doubts. I would still want to read it, but it wouldn’t mean anything important. However, you wrote something entirely different. A path that not even I was able to predict on my own. So… Star Wars?

Arthur cringed again.

\- Yeah… A Jedi in love with a Sith lord.

\- Is this everything ok with the Jedi temple and the Jedi creed?

The English teen blinked.

\- No. They are corrupt now. Barely hanging on the Light side of the Force. How did you know that there was something different there?

\- And was the sith lord deceiving the jedi to try to bring them to the Dark Side?

Arthur glared.

\- And you said that you didn’t predict my story at all.

\- I stayed up all night. Predicting the new paths that _you_ showed me. So, tell me: will the lord sith change sides on the future? And will this jedi create a new creed on his own?

\- Actually, there are some stuff that will happen on the story. I’m not sure about what it is exactly.

Gilbert’s smile broadened.

\- Maybe adding a character similar to Han Solo?

\- Nah… Don’t think so. I’m not a big fan of Love Triangles.

\- Oh, but I didn’t mean like a love triangle. Just… a character to make one of them jealous.

\- So I should add Han Solo to the story?

\- Everybody is jealous of Han Solo, for a reason or another.

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

\- Why would you want a Han Solo Character?

Gilbert only smiled.

\- Think about it. I’m really interested in reading it after you finished.

He took a step back.

\- See you around, _junge_.

And he turned and walked around towards Hamlet Creek.

Arthur shook his head.

What the hell was that crazy albino planning?

He finished cleaning his fridge.

Time to work.

Now, Arthur needed food, new clothes and gasoline (if he wanted to use the fridge).

It was easy to find job again (even one scavenging job opportunity).

Francis kept following him. Always trying to get closer, always staying away when Arthur pushed him.

Gilbert waved in the distance with Gilbird on his shoulder.

The second night was calmer. There was no banging, but Arthur still missed Francis. A lot. The ghost presence of him was a comfort, but it was not the same as the real thing.

The third day was the same, but the third night made Arthur realize that he didn’t want to get over Francis. That he still missed him and that the still wanted him back.

On the fourth night on his new home, Arthur wondered how Francis was still alright. He didn’t seem to have a job because he was following Arthur around like a kicked puppy. It was kinda creepy in Arthur’s opinion, but since he was respecting the English teen wishes and staying kinda away, he thought that it was fine. At least that was what he guessed. He should ask someone if that was creepy or not (he would probably have to ask Gilbert).

On the fifth day, Arthur screamed at Francis.

\- STOP FUCKING FOLLOWING ME!

Francis looked miserable, but Arthur saw not even the Frenchman’s shadow on the rest that day.

On the sixth and seventh days, Francis didn’t followed him. He was working on Hamlet Creek (Arthur had seen him while running some errands), but he didn’t try to get closer to Arthur.

On the sixth night, Arthur dreamed with Francis: embracing him and kissing him. It was really frustrating to wake up without the Frenchman there.

On the seventh night, Arthur missed Francis.

A LOT.

The ghost presence wasn’t enough anymore.

“Screw it!” he thought “I’m going after him”.

On the eighth day he got closer to the Frenchman.

\- Where are you staying? – he asked directly.

Francis blinked in surprise before answering, his gorgeous blue eyes were wide.

\- At the River Siren Inn.

Arthur frowned.

\- Pick your things. You are going to my house tonight.

The older smiled.

\- So you forgive me?

The English teen snorted.

\- As if.

The Frenchman lost his smile.

\- Arthur, I’m sorry! I snapped! I didn’t plan that! I thought that you, of all people, would understand that!

Arthur glared.

\- Don’t you DARE to use my memories against me.

Francis cringed.

\- Ok! Ok! I’m sorry. They would kill us and I snapped. I’m sorry.

They stared at each other.

Arthur was glaring.

Francis was sheepish.

At the end, Arthur groaned.

\- I haven’t forgiven you, you prick, but pick your things anyway. BUT you will be under MY rules now, _capiche_?

There was no smile on that land bigger than the smile that Francis opened on that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> Another chapter!   
> YAY!  
> I guess that is my pattern: One chapter per month in the beginning of the month. That is what my emotional state, psychological state and academic life allows me x_x  
> Oh, well, at least you people have a prediction about the next update xD
> 
> Anyways, I think this chapter is kinda hushed.   
> Like, this is an important chapter to keep the story together, some glue to keep it all smooth and going.   
> However, it was SO BORING to write x_x   
> I did my best, but it was kind of hushed.   
> Like, nothing really happened...  
> They just... got together and found a new home.  
> I used the chapter to put a lot of clues about stuff and etc, but other than that, the chapter had too little. 
> 
> Well...  
> Even with nothing interesting happening, this chapter is kind of a milestone to me =D  
> Now the first big plot twist is so close 83c  
> Oh, so close 8Dc  
> I hope that I have done this right, because the idea is to that nobody see it coming, even if I have dropped some clues 8Dc  
> Things are going to change soon 83c
> 
> AHEM! Anyways, thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this story s2
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com among with A LOT of FrUk Stuff =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there).  
> (just be aware that drama can eclode on my blog from time to time)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	14. The Falling Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would you wish for if you saw a falling star?  
> Well, maybe you should ask yourself why it is falling in the first place.  
> At least Arthur is not wrong for wish for the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gilbert: APH Prussia  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> [Stuff bolded] = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL  
> [Stuff in italic] = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING (A Romance Language custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English int his chapter that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> mon ange [French: my angel]  
> Va te faire foutre, oiseau! [French: Go fuck yourself, bird!]  
> petit merde [French: little shit]   
> junge [German: boy]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

Francis was fuller of love than ever.

He would kiss and hold Arthur more than before, talking to him with even more gentleness than before. Which was really nice, the English teen needed to acknowledge that.

They were trying to set a new routine.

Due to Francis’s connections before the drought, they were being able to re-start to take good scavengers jobs. They were working near Hamlet Creek, though, because Arthur was preferring not to take jobs away from the city (he was still traumatized of long journeys). But they were taking good jobs and buying new stuff (Francis made a small trip alone back to Flag Village to get some of their other stuff. He was really fast walking alone, being back in record time).

Things seemed to be doing alright…

However, there was still something creeping by the corners of Francis’s speech. Something up to no good.

\- I wouldn’t trust these people again.

\- You know how the natives are.

\- Hey, ignore them, _mon ange_ [French: my angel], they are not worthy.

From time to time, he would say something like that, subtly (or not that subtly) trying to make exactly what Gilbert told Arthur that the Frenchman was doing before: manipulating him.

Manipulating him to try to make him to not care.

Arthur would tell him to knock it off all those times. Francis Devil-may-care attitude would retreat to the shadows of conversation. He would say that he was not saying anything absurd.

The teenager talked with Gilbert about it on the next week (day 117, 32 days left until the “Answers day”. Yeah, Arthur was counting).

\- Am I going crazy? – he asked Gil – Because Francis is not wrong, you know?

\- But he is not right either, _junge_ [German: boy].

\- Things are more complicated than that when one is dealing with people. – Gilbird added.

\- But then, who is right after all?

Gilbert smiled gently (and gave that intense hooded stare of his).

\- It is silly to see people in general as right or wrong. People, Arthur Kirkland, have interests, no matter who they are. And those interests should be analysed in context and taking in consideration how those interests affect other people.

\- I don’t think I followed.

Gil smiled.

\- That means that you cannot judge other people evil or good based on _yours_ interests. Just because a person is not acting the exact way you want them to act, doesn’t means that they are bad or wrong. The only thing that can make a person or a group of people absolutely bad or wrong is if they are hurting other people with their actions.

\- So Francis not trusting other people…

\- He is merely judging people by his interests. But other people also have their own interests. When thing these two interests doesn’t match, Francis wants you to distrust the other people. Since this time nobody is harmed or distressed in anyway, there is hardly a right or wrong.

Arthur lowered his head.

\- What if his interests doesn’t are the same as mine? – he sucked a breath – Will he distrust me? Will he stop caring?

Gilbert put a comforting hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

\- I can tell right now that he is desperate to make your interests match his. Which, just like mending somebody else’s heart, is impossible. – Gilbert sighed – Apparently, he is still blind to the obvious.

Arthur hesitated for one second before asking:

\- Are you sure that I’m not just… Like, too sensitive about all this?

Gil’s eyes went wide.

\- Did that monster told you that?! – Gilbird asked, flapping his wings in fury.

\- No, no. He didn’t…

\- Oh, yes he did. – Gilbert said in a sombre way – He did not with worlds, but with his eyes, didn’t he?

Arthur didn’t answer, just bit his lips nervously.

Gilbert stood up, glaring at the direction in which Francis was while waiting for Arthur.

\- Wait right here.

The English teen stood up too.

\- Oh, hell no. Stop treating me like a child.

The Albino shrugged.

\- Do as you please.

He marched towards Francis with Arthur following right behind.

\- Gaslighting, Francis? – Gilbert asked with disgust – That is the lowest that I have seen you reach.

Francis crossed his arms.

\- Who the fuck you are to judge, ripper?

Gilbert stared at him with that intense look of his.

\- I have truths and trust while you have hurt and lies. This is not a competition, but if it was, who do you think it would win in the long run?

The Frenchman smirked.

\- You would be surprised…

\- Oh, no, _Lieber Freund_. YOU will be surprised. With the same velocity a lie gains things, it may lose all again.

They just stared at each other frowning.

This time, Gilbert was the one to smirk.

\- Your punishment is coming, Francis. Coming in large steps or – he chuckled – should I say large wings?

The Frenchman looked murderous, but said nothing.

Gil turned to Arthur again, still smirking.

\- Could I speak with you in private one last minute?

Arthur blinked, not understand half of the bad blood.

\- Sure.

They walked back to Gilbert’s stall while Francis only glared at them.

The albino smiled.

\- How is your story going?

The English teen raised one eyebrow.

\- Is that all you have to ask? You could have done this in front of Francis, he is reading the story too.

\- Oh, is he? And what did he said?

Arthur shrugged.

Although he hadn’t told Francis about his new memories, he had shared his story with him. Francis was an avid reader and very excited to share theories about what would happen next (although his guessing were rather silly, for example, the sith lord and the jedi eloping together to marry in Jakku and having a small family). It was really cute and flattering.

\- He is excited to see the rest, but he is always hoping that it will end in sappy romance. He likes the jedi character, like, A LOT, and thinks that the sith is a douchebag.

Gilbert snorted and smiled in a funny way.

\- Of course he does… Anyways, have you thought about the Han Solo character yet?

\- Actually I’m making the chapter in which they meet the Han Solo character! I haven’t showed it to Francis, but in this chapter, this smuggler character had crashed on the planed where the two are. Like, the Force had sent him, but not the Jedi-Force, like, the Force of an occult character, do you get it?

Arthur was positive that he was babbling and making no sense. However Gil’s smile broadened.

\- On, yes I do, _junge_. I do.

\- Great! Like, I’m making this character have some memory loss problems, because the sith had set a trap to him and a bunch of other stuff.

\- For what purpose would he do that?

\- I don’t know… I haven’t thought that it was important. He is evil I guess?

\- What I just told you, Arthur Kirkland?

Arthur rolled his eyes.

\- People have interests. I get it.

Gilbert smirked.

\- Think about it.

The teenager groaned.

\- Why do you have to be so fucking cryptic?

The albino only laughed.

At least after that day, Francis didn’t tried to manipulate him all that much. That bigoted speech would still sit on the corners of his conversations, but made not open apparition.

Things seemed to be starting to turn into a new normal.

That was why Arthur was startled to see Gilbird three days later while he was looking for items in the market for another scavenger job.

\- Pss. Hey, Arthur. – he called trying to be discrete.

Francis glared.

\- _Va te faire foutre, oiseau_! [French: Go fuck yourself, bird!].

He take a step to throw the item he was holding (some mechanical pieces) into Gilbird’s direction. Aiming to kill (or at least maul) the magical-bird.

Arthur put a hand on Francis’s chest to stop him.

\- Hey! Knock it off, Francis! – he demanded angrily.

Francis glared in silence, but made no mention to try to harm the bird again.

The English teen sighed and walked to Gilbird.

\- Hey, Gilbird.

The magical-eagle’s eyes seemed to shine.

\- Gilbert said to you to keep an eye to the sky today! As long as you can. Oh, also: don’t forget to make a wish! It may come true!

And he flew away before another person could notice that there was a yellow bird talking.

Francis got closer, still looking angry.

\- What does the _petit merde_ [French: little shit] meant?

Arthur had his eyebrows raised in confusion.

\- I honestly have no clue.

But he had a suspicious that he would find out soon.

Francis was infuriating the rest of the day. At any single situation, he was trying to criticise Gilbert and Gilbird. Even for the smallest things that were completely unrelated to the albino, he was finding a reason to talk horrible things about him.

Arthur wondered what made Francis that angry with his ex-friend.

It must be something bad. But what?

It was really an annoying day for the English teen with his annoying French boyfriend.

Really, he had to spend a lot of energy not to slap that bitch.

(But he did end up screaming with Francis after lunch. That made him have 2 hours of peace before the older re-started to talk bad stuff about Gil).

Even if he was annoyed, Arthur kept glancing at the sky at any opportunity.

It was a nice day, with a few clouds passing by. It probably would grizzle during the night. But other than that, it was just an ordinary day with soft sunlight.

They were walking to their home by the sunset when Arthur glanced at the sky for the last time and he saw it.

\- Look! A falling star!

Francis glanced too.

\- You mean a shooting star? – he glared at it – It is just a piece of rock burning and dying into the atmosphere.

Arthur didn’t know why he had said falling instead of shooting.

Regardless of the name, if Gilbert told him (through Gilbird) to keep an eye on the sky to see the falling star, then that probably meant something.

Something important.

“Make a wish…” the thought “I wish to know the truth about me, about Francis, about Gilbert and about this place. I what the truth”.

Francis glared at the direction where the falling star had been.

\- This is nothing important. Just ignore it.

Arthur sighed and pretended that he hadn’t just made a wish.

The star stayed on his mind for the whole night. He even dreamed about it (and other things that he couldn’t remember).

By the morning, he woke up inspired to continue his Star Wars story. He made the part in which the ‘Han Solo’ character’s ship crashed into the planet where the jedi and the sith were. (He really should give a name to that character. Maybe a name from a great king of England).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> SURPRISE!!!!! NEW CHAPTER!!!!
> 
> I used my last days of vacations to make a new chapter =3   
> It is not as big as the last one, but I guess it is big enough (1864 words). And it is a little bit smaller than the others BUT it was delivered only one week after the last update, so I guess all is fine =3
> 
> Also, I needed to split chapter fourteen in two for two reasons:  
> 1) It would help me to make the story. Like, it would be too much information in one chapter if this part (that I'm publishing now) is together with the other part (that is now chapter 15)  
> 2) ... I want chapter 15 to be called "The Han Solo character"... Fight me.
> 
> Hence, this small chapter so fast =3
> 
> I think I enjoy too much the idea of Arthur writting epic romance novels/epic romance fanfics and Francis reading and trying to make it more cheesy xD  
> I have this headcanon that, no matter what universe (canon or not), Arthur LOVES to write. So I'm using this on my fanfic s2
> 
> There is not much to say about this chapter...  
> Like, some important stuff is happening, but it is all behind the scenes for now. And I don't want to give spoilers x3
> 
> The next update probably will be only on August now, like was the original plan. My vacations/holidays are over and college re-starts on Monday (tomorrow). That means less time and energy to write, unfortunately, but I'll try to make at least one update per month. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this story s2
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com among with A LOT of FrUk Stuff =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there).  
> (just be aware that drama can eclode on my blog from time to time)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	15. The 'Han Solo' Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another foreigner shows up on the next day after the falling star.  
> But why he cannot even remember his name for certain and yet he knows Arthur?  
> And why is Francis so bitter about him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gilbert: APH Prussia  
> Fred: APH America  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> [Stuff bolded] = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL  
> [Stuff in italic] = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING (A Romance Language custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English int his chapter that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> mon lapin [French: my bunny]  
> mon amour [French: my love]  
> Mon ange [French: my angel]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

That day started with the usual: breakfast at 6:30 and then go find jobs to make a living. Even yesterday’s falling star was a lazy memory on Arthur’s head (he had no time to dwell on the past. Not when he had to concentrate).

At least Francis had stopped talking shit about Gilbert and Gilbird.

The day was basically normal.

On the morning they got a job to go to the Fallen Tree Market, a spontaneous market that existed near a huge dead tree. It was a two hours walk from Hamlet Creek, and the only reason Arthur agreed with said job was because it was paying A LOT (he was still hesitant to travel. Francis was trying to coax him into doing at least small trips like that).

Arthur was tense during the journey. His boyfriend held his hand and smiled tenderly, trying to soothe him.

\- Relax, _mon lapin_ [French: my bunny]. Everything will be fine!

In fact, the stories about cannibals and thieves disappeared after that big storm, and since the rain was regular again, there was no big motive to people act like that.

That still wasn’t enough to make the English teen 100% calm.

\- Seriously, Francis. You are not helping.

The Frenchman cringed.

\- I’m sorry! I’ve already said that billions of times!

\- Yes, you did. But you didn’t explained to me why you snapped like that yet.

Francis looked away. He looked irritated.

\- I don’t want to talk about it.

\- Francis, this is not fair! I told you about my memories, my fears of snapping and everything. Why are you keeping things from me?

\- We already have this conversation-

\- You mean that you already tried to dodge this conversation.

\- That is not what I am doing.

\- Then why you don’t talk to me?!

\- Arthur, drop it! I don’t want to talk about that, ok?

\- Why?

\- Drop it!

\- We both know that I can’t do that.

Francis sighed annoyed.

\- Why the fuck not?

\- Because I love you, you oblivious wanker!

\- Then give me space!

\- So you can avoid the subject with pleasantries? Hell, no.

The Frenchman said quietly and stubbornly.

\- I don’t want to talk about it.

Arthur groaned.

\- This is SO not over, you cocksucker.

\- I could suck YOUR cock if that makes you happier.

\- Don’t try to distract me with sex! We still need to talk!

But they didn’t talk. They end up jerking off together behind a tree (Francis still was reluctant to let Arthur suck him. Arthur wondered if that and the snapping thing were related, but also he was quite sure that Francis would dodge the subject if he tried to talk about it).

Francis was refusing to talk about that at all, and to Arthur that was like a small barrier between them. Something that didn’t allow him to truly trust the Frenchman again.

The job on Fallen Tree Market was easy and occurred swiftly, meaning that they were back to Hamlet Creek for lunch.

As soon as they got closer to the market, they hear a small commotion.

\- THIS AIN’T FOR FREE, YO LITTLE RAT!

A second voice, a lot younger answered.

\- But sir! Please! I’m hungry!

A few bystanders stopped to look, including Francis and Arthur.

A small child with golden hair was in front of Mr. Green’s fruit stall and with his back turned to the small crowd. The English teen wondered where the child’s parents were.

Mr. Richard “Dick” Green was known as an unforgiving fruit dealer. He had the best fruits in the highest quantities and also he had the highest prices. Nobody steals from him.

Nobody.

The last one who tried had his arm broken badly.

Mr. Green took what appeared to be an apple from the little boy’s hand.

\- Fuck off, brat!

\- Oh, please, sir! Just one, I swear I…

Arthur noticed the movement before the child: Mr. Green raised his hand to slap the kid on the face (probably with a lot of strength). An unnecessary punishment for begging for one single apple.

Arthur couldn’t let it happen.

He just couldn’t.

The teenager took two fast steps just in time to stop the blow against the kid.

\- Hitting little hungry kids?  That is low even for you, Dick. – he said glaring at the seller.

Mr. Green was red with anger.

\- Mind yo own business, Kirkland!

\- You don’t tell me what to do, you sad fuck!

\- I’ll teach yo, yo brat!

And he aimed a punch towards Arthur’s face.

However, the English teen was faster and more trained on fighting than the fat seller.

It was fairly easy for Arthur to dodge and punch Mr. Green on the cheek. The fruit seller lost his balance and fell into a box full of oranges.

\- FIGHT ME, YOU ASSHOLE! – Arthur shouted with clenched fists.

Mr. Green spat a tooth.

\- You lill’-

\- Ok! – Francis said stepping between them – Everybody calm down! Nothing was stolen, so we will go on our merry way now.

\- That little shit punched me!

\- And you was going to punch him first. – Francis said in a hard tone – So, before anyone gets really hurt, let’s stop right here.

Dick Green glared at the couple, probably measuring his chances of success on a fight. At the end he said with clenched teeth.

\- Get out of my fucking stall.

Before Arthur could answer back, Francis was already dragging him away.

\- Must you pick fights with everybody? – Francis asked in an annoyed tone.

\- Fight me, Bonnefoy!

The crowd was dispersing, losing interest on what was happening.

The couple was ready to go on their way to look for lunch when a tiny voice interrupted them.

\- Are you Arthur?

Arthur looked down and found out that the little boy was still there.

He was DEFINETELY another foreigner, because his face wasn’t deformed like all the others. He probably was 6 or 7 years old and he had chubby cheeks, pouting lips, baby blue and innocent eyes and a cowlick on his straight blond hair. His accent seemed to be something from United States (Arthur couldn’t pinpoint the exact location). He was staring at Arthur with urgency.

The English teen blinked.

\- Do I know you?

Francis put a hand around Arthur’s shoulders and tried to pull him away in a possessive way.

\- Ignore him, _mon amour_ [French: my love]. He is just a street rat.

The English teen detached himself and glared at his boyfriend.

\- Are you? – the boy asked again, biting his thin and soft lips.

Arthur lowered his body to be on the same level as the boy.

\- Yes I am. Who are you, kid?

The child opened a million-watts smile and launched himself into hugging Arthur.

\- I found you! I found Arthur!

Arthur could only stare at Francis with surprise on his face.

Francis…

Francis had a murderous expression.

The English teen glared at his boyfriend. What was with the Frenchman? That was only a small child!

He detached himself from the boy’s embrace. The kid was still smiling full throttle.

\- Do I know you, kid?

\- No. But I know you, Mr. Arthur! I was looking for you!

\- Why?

The boy lost his smile and pouted with a confused expression.

\- I… I don’t know.

\- You don’t know?

\- No. I know I needed to find you, but I can’t remember…

\- What you cannot remember?

\- I don’t remember why, Mr. Arthur.

The kid blinked before smiling again.

\- But I found you now!

\- Where are your parents?

\- Don’t know about them… but I have a brother! – he beamed – He is a soldier!

Arthur smiled.

\- What is his name? Maybe I can help you finding them.

The boy chewed his lips.

\- I don’t remember…

\- What do you remember? – Arthur asked patiently.

The child looked up with his little hand on his chin, thinking and trying to remember.

\- Not much… I just needed to find you and to find my suitcase.

The English teen raised an eyebrow.

\- A suitcase?

Francis choose that moment to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

\- _Mon ange_ [French: my angel], this brat is not our problem. Let’s go.

Arthur glared at him and detached himself from the touch.

\- How can you be so cruel! It is a fucking child, Francis!

The child hugged Arthur’s waist and sticking his tongue out to Francis.

The Frenchman stayed impassive.

\- He is not our problem.

\- Yes, he is! He is clearly a foreigner like us and he is all alone!

\- I’m still not accepting him in our house.

\- Well, thankfully, _sweetheart_ , that house is technically mine AND you agreed to live by MY rule to get back together. So, you don’t get a saying if he is staying with us or not.

Francis stayed in silence and glaring.

Arthur turned back to the boy with a smile.

\- Why are you living with an evil demon, Mr. Arthur? – the kid asked suddenly making a face – He stole my suitcase!

The English teen laughed.

\- He is just mean, but he is no demon. And I really doubt that Francis had stolen your case. What is your name, kid?

The boy seemed to think for a little bit.

\- I think… I think my name is Fred.

\- You are not sure?

The boy pouted and seemed to think hard.

\- I think… it is…

Arthur smiled gently.

\- That is ok, Fred. You will figure out with time.

And he took Fred by the hand. They would need to buy him clothes, and a mattress probably (he doubted that Francis would let him sleep with them on the bed, or even on the same room).

With his peripheral vision, Arthur saw a small yellow bird that looked a lot with Gilbird flying away.

He wondered if meeting that boy was part of the weird Albino’s plan.

Probably.

But why? And how?

On that night, Arthur had a weird dream again.

The same dream, actually.

On the dream, he fought odd creatures (some like the Nightwalkers on that land, some different) with a light-saber (a green one). At the same time, he had big wings and a hallo. Really big and strong wings. His allies were a demon, twin angels and a shadow of an angel and they needed to destroy that gigantic meat grinder that was eating souls alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> I guess I'll make smaller chapters from now on? At least for a while. Like, things will go a tad slower now, so small chapters may help. I'll try to deliver something sooner (since the chapters are small) but college won't let me make any big promises.
> 
> Anyway, HOW CAN NOBODY ASKED ME WHY APH AMERICA/ALFRED IS LISTED ON THE CHARACTERS LIST???  
> Like, it have been there SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY, and NOBODY ASKED ME/NOTICED  
> Holy fuck. 
> 
> Like, when I was creating the story, before I had a big plot developed, only 3 hetalia characters were included on the story: APH England and APH France for obvious reasons, and APH America. America would play a part similar to what APH Prussia/Gilbert is, however he wouldn't have the powers to see the future, so he wouldn't have a master plan, he just would be showing Arthur the truth.   
> When I included Gilbert, Alfred part transformed into something else. He is still important to the plot, but he don't have the same uperhand than Gil.
> 
> Also, I really have to say this now: THERE WILL BE NO USUK ON THIS FANFIC.  
> Like many things on this world, Fred (Alfred), is not what he seems. I cannot say anything more because I don't want to give spoilers. But I have to say that there will be no UsUk, ok?  
> (Al)Fred and Arthur will have a strong brotherly/friendly relationship, but no romantic feelings for each other. 
> 
> On another note, I have to tell you guys that I'll be making a lot of Star Wars references on the fanfic, in case you haven't noticed before.   
> You don't need to have seen Star Wars to understand the story, but if you get the references you might get one or two extra clues 8D  
> Just saying 83c
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this story s2
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com among with A LOT of FrUk Stuff =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there).  
> (just be aware that drama can eclode on my blog from time to time)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	16. The Mystery in Fred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred was a mystery himself.  
> Why was he there?  
> Why was any of them there?  
> Why Fred was looking for Arthur?  
> And what did that "tips" that Gilbert gave the boy mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any)
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gilbert Beilschmidt: APH Prussia  
> Fred: APH America  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> [Stuff bolded] = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL  
> [Stuff in italic] = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
> \- [text after dashes] = TALKING (A Romance Language custom, I guess)  
> "[Text]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English int his chapter that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> junge [German: boy]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

Arthur never thought that he would be the one keeping things peaceful and cool in any situation. Not someone like him that always was driven by his emotions and that was kind of impulsive (he was mature enough to acknowledge that).

And yet, he was the one avoiding a major conflict between Fred and Francis on the next ten days.

Francis seemed to despise the young boy from the core of his soul. The way he would stare at Fred sometimes could only be described as pure hate and cruelty. He wouldn’t act on those feelings that were so clear on his face and his eyes, but he would always try to convince Arthur someway that they should just abandon Fred. He would never provide an explanation other than “I don’t like that thing” (he even refused to acknowledge Fred as a person).

Fred on the other hand seemed to react to that hatred by being annoying. Which was an attitude to be expected from a seven years old child like the American boy was. However, that didn’t help their situation at all.

Fred was a mystery himself.

Why was he there?

Why was any of them there?

Why Fred was looking for Arthur?

The boy said he didn’t remember. All he knew was that he must find Arthur at any cost. He didn’t know how or why he was there.

When Arthur had asked that, Fred had bitten his lips in an anxious way.

\- Are you mad at me, Mr. Arthur?

The English teen smiled and messed up the American boy’s hair.

\- Of course not, Kiddo. I’m just… trying to understand what is happening.

Fred nodded solemnly.

Francis snorted from his spot while sharpening his machete.

\- What is there to understand? He is just another lost soul like us and you took the little brat home.

Arthur glared at him.

\- Lost souls, huh? Anything else you want to share, mate?

\- _Sacrebleu_ , Arthur! That was only an expression! There is not a “meaning” in any of this, for fuck’s sake!

Fred stared at Francis as if seeing through him.

\- He is not a lost soul. He is evil. – the boy said with an enigmatic tone.

The Frenchman looked murderous.

Arthur tried, again, to avoid something worse.

\- Fred! That is not something nice to say!

\- But it is the truth!

\- No, it is not. – he cringed – Not entirely.

Francis stood up, visibly angry.

\- I’m going to sleep.

And he slammed the door to the bedroom (which he and Arthur were sharing).

There was no peace between them since Fred had arrived. Francis was angry and quiet most of the time, only speaking to insult the child and to reply in an irritated tone to Arthur.

If before Fred arrival Arthur felt like there was a small barrier in between himself and Francis, now there was a fucking China Wall.

\- Just talk to me! – Arthur had cried out one night, when he was feeling like he had enough, but feeling like he didn’t want to lose Francis.

Francis had glared like a feral animal, the blue eyes dangerously reminding Arthur that the Frenchman could snap at any minute.

But the older only glared.

\- There is nothing to talk about.

And he laid on his side of the bed, his back facing Arthur.

The lack of Francis affection was probably one of the worst parts of it. It was almost like the Frenchman was the spice on the English teen’s life. Without it, things seemed to be so bland in comparison…

Yeah, he could live without him, but did he wanted that?

Oh, hell no.

But what to do? He couldn’t just abandon Fred! That wouldn’t be right!

Arthur felt locked between a rock and a hard place, with no ways to escape.

 

* * *

 

 

**Day 131**

**I don’t know what to do.**

**Francis was even staring angrily at the food I was serving Fred.**

**He refuses to cook if Fred is going to eat too.**

**I don’t know what to do!**

 

* * *

 

\- Mr. Arthur, what are you doing? – Fred asked.

Francis had gone to make a delivery after another heated argument about Fred. He probably wouldn’t be back until sunset, luckily with some new product.

Arthur sighed.

\- Just making an entry on my journal, kiddo.

Fred had been playing with some kids while Arthur was watching under a tree. They were in a small park in the middle of Hamlet Creek after their lunch (Francis had left in the middle of the meal).

The boy sat near him, sweating, blushing because of the sun and the running and smiling with curiosity.

\- Oh. You do that every day, Mr. Arthur?

\- Most of them.

\- What do you write about?

\- My day, the things I’m thinking about.

\- Do you write about me?

Arthur smiled.

\- Sometimes, kid.

\- What about me? – another known voice asked – Do you write about me?

Gilbert was smiling like a white cat in front of two canaries.

The English teen rolled his eyes.

\- Only to remind myself that there are 18 days left until you tell me the truth.

\- My Goddess! Only 18 days? – he chuckled – Anyways, I promised part of the truth, _junge_ [German: boy]. Don’t put words on my mouth.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

\- I haven’t seen you last Saturday.

\- I was kinda busy.

\- With what?

\- Oh, important things. – he gave Arthur his infamous intense stares – Very important things.

The English teen rolled his eyes.

\- Are you the Gilbert? – Fred asked with wide blue childish eyes in awe – Gilbert Beish… Beilsmit…?

Gil grinned manically. Gilbird answered the child.

\- Beilschmidt, _engel_.

The little boy beamed.

Arthur blinked.

\- Fred, how do you know Gilbert’s surname?

\- Everybody knows Mr. Gilbert. – Fred replied in a matter-of-fact way – He is the nosy neutral.

\- Fred! That is not a nice thing to say!

\- But it is true! – he turned to the albino – Isn’t, Mr. Gilbert?

Gil laughed.

\- He is right, Arthur. – he was still grinning – I’m the nosy one.

The English teen stared at Gilbert warily.

\- And how can Fred knows you?

\- Just another part of my show, junge. You will find out the answer soon enough. But I’m not here for you today. – he turned to grin at Fred – I’m here to give this bad boy a little tip.

Fred giggled. Arthur was more confused than ever.

Gilbert directed his intense stare to the child.

\- If you want to do your job, you will need to free your soul through the earth. That is the only way to get yourself back.

The boy visibly gulped.

\- Also, follow the yellow brick road. But be careful, he wicked witch will make it disappear as soon as they notice it is there. So be fast.

Fred nodded solemn.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

\- What the fudge was that supposed to mean?

Gilbert laughed.

\- “Fudge”, Arthur? Since when you hold your tongue?

\- Since there is a KID here, you moron!

The albino chuckled.

\- Is that it?

\- Please, not more cryptic games, ok? I’m really not in the mood.

\- Then, I shall go, _junge_ , so I won’t annoy you any longer.

He waved at the duo.

\- I hope you both survive the night!

And he left.

Arthur turned to Fred.

\- What did he meant with those tips?

Fred shrugged with a smile.

\- I don’t know. But I will find out! After all, he can see the future, you know?

Arthur’s green eyes went wide with confusion.

\- What…?

But before he could articulate another question, some children called him to play. Fred smiled at Arthur.

\- Gotta go, Mr. Arthur!

The boy was already running.

\- Fred! Wait!

The sunny boy looked back with curiousity.

Arthur open and closed his mouth.

Something inside him was sure that Fred wouldn’t have a single answer to give him.

Fred was part of the whole mystery, but he was a mystery by himself.

Maybe not even he knows that yet.

The English teen needed to find the answers on his own.

So he smiled.

\- Be careful, ok?

Fred beamed.

\- Sure, Mr. Arthur!

He watched Fred running while massaging his head.

How the fuck was that sunny boy connected to everything?

And what the fuck was “everything”?

Arthur was exhausted of not getting any answers.

And yet, he couldn’t stop asking questions.

Maybe because he felt like he was still far from answer the original 4 question:

Where was he? How did he get there? Why was he there?

Who was Arthur Kirkland?

Who was he, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> I don't know what to comment right now ._. I have a headache and I'm starving and I'm tired.  
> (EDIT: I already eat, now I just have a headache and I am tired)
> 
> Well, this chapter was about showing how things were now that (Al)Fred is with them AND to keep people on their toes wondering why this boy is the way he is.  
> Also I used the oportunity to recover some things that were in the past, like the original 4 questions. 
> 
> Also, I skipped a few days, getting us closer to the Reveal day.  
> Maybe if I continue, I'll advance more in the next chapter.  
> Like, a lot more.  
> My head is hurting too much right now to think about it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this story s2
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com among with A LOT of FrUk Stuff =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there).  
> (just be aware that drama can eclode on my blog from time to time)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


	17. New visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert gave a tip to Fred and a new perspective to Arthur.   
> A new vision.  
> Also, Arthur started to write a new story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS STORY IS UNEDITED! So, pardon any English mistakes (let me know if you find any). Also, Engrishi is not my first language, so forgive my mistakes if I don’t Engrishi well.
> 
> I don't know if I'm going to finish this, ok? So don't mind if I drop this in the middle (I'll try my best, though).  
> So far, so good
> 
> Characters names (in case you don’t know) for this chapter:  
> Arthur Kirkland: APH England  
> Francis Bonnefoy: APH France  
> Gilbert Beilschmidt: APH Prussia  
> Fred: APH America  
> Any other that is not on the list, it is just an OC.
> 
> Just one little note before you start reading:  
> [ **Stuff bolded** ] = ARTHUR'S ENTRIES ON HIS JOURNAL AND HIS TEXTS  
> [ _Stuff in italic_ ] = ARTHUR'S MEMORIES  
> \- [Text after dashes] = TALKING (A Romance Language custom, I guess)  
> "[Text in between quotation marks]" = THOUGHTS/MEMORIES
> 
> The terms in languages other than English int his chapter that Arthur can understand so far are:  
> oiseau bleu [French: blue bird]  
> Any other term he doesn't understand yet, so it is not translatable.
> 
> Now, to the story!

As always, Gilbert’s “advices” seemed to be the main cause of the chaos and hard times in Arthur’s life. He was starting to question himself if Gil was really thinking about his and Francis’s wellbeing or if he just wanted to see the world burn

Right after that encounter with the albino, Fred had turned to Francis, with an expression too serious for his age, and demanded:

\- Where the fuck is my suitcase?

Arthur stared to the boy in complete shock.

\- What the hell was that Fred!?

The Frenchman glared at the American.

\- I have no idea of what you are talking about.

\- LIAR!

And he tried to kick Francis’s shin. Arthur caught the boy before he could hit.

\- Fred! Stop it! Stop it now!

\- But he took it! He took it! That wicked beast took it!

He pushed the American boy who panted and pouted.

\- That monster stole it!

\- ENOUGH, FRED! – Arthur said with all the commanding voice that he could muster – I don’t want to hear about it! Do you understand?

The child pouted.

\- But he stole it. – he grumbled.

Arthur sighed annoyed, but at least Fred was now quiet and not misbehaving. So the English teen turned to the Frenchman to calm him down now.

That wasn’t necessary.

A shiver run down Arthur’s spine.

Francis was smiling sadistically towards the boy

\- You should hold your tongue, _oiseau bleu_ [French: blue bird]. Or maybe your bag is not the only thing you will lose.

By instinct, the English teen put himself in front of Fred.

\- I’m not afraid of you! – the boy said with childish conviction.

Francis laughed.

\- You should, and you know it.

\- What the fuck do you mean, Francis? – Arthur demanded.

The Frenchman stared at him in a very weird and scary way.

Just like a predator staring at its prey.

Arthur felt like hiding from such terrifying look.

\- I’m going to sleep at the inn tonight. – he announced.

\- Don’t you fucking dare to turn your back on me, Bonnefoy!

But the Frenchman was already walking away.

Arthur grabbed his arm and made him turn.

\- Stop hiding! Stop running away! Fuck, Francis! Stop lying and stop not telling me things!

But Francis just pulled his arm from the English teen’s hold and walked always with cold eyes.

As soon as he was gone, Fred held his hand.

\- Why do you like him, Mr. Arthur? He is evil. He can make rain blood if he want.

Arthur massaged his forehead.

\- FRED, ENOUGH! I don’t want to hear about it! – he couldn’t help but scream.

He was frustrated.

He was lost.

He didn’t know what to do.

Arthur stared at the window, even if it was blocked with planks.

He was not the right person for all that.

Why that was happening to him?

Was that some kind of punishment?

Did he deserved that?

Fred hugged his waist.

\- I’m sorry Mr. Arthur… I just… I want to tell you the truth, but I don’t remember all of it…

Arthur took a deep breath.

It was no use to scream at a child. It would only make him feel even worse.

He turned and crouched in front of Fred with a tired smile.

\- That is ok, kiddo. I know that it is not your fault. But try not to provoke Francis, ok?

The American boy grimaced.

\- But he is eeeeeeeeevil!

\- Fred, please.

The kid sighed.

\- Fiiiiiiine. – he whined – But we have to do something! Mr. Arthur we need to do something to escape this place!

Arthur stared at the kid for one moment.

The older expression became determined.

\- Ok. We need. I just don’t know what, kiddo.

Fred beamed with hope.

\- The yellow brick road! We need to find it!

Arthur blinked.

\- It could be anywhere, Fred. I don’t think it would be that easy.

\- But it IS, Mr. Arthur! We just need to ask Gilbert to show it to us while the evil man is away!

\- I hardly think that Gilbert has this kind of power.

\- But he has!

Fred stared at Arthur with a smile and conviction.

\- He is basically god here! They both are! So we just need to ask him!

The English teen sighed.

\- Kid, nobody has that kind of power. Besides, even if he has, he will not do it. Only if it matches his weird plans.

The American boy was still full of that childish conviction.

\- He has that power. And we just need to find the right way to ask him!

Arthur stared at him before smiling.

\- Ok, kiddo. We will figure something out.

That night, Arthur tossed and turned on the bed.

He could feel a ghost presence, almost if Francis was there with him.

For one moment, he wondered if Fred was right.

If Francis was really a God in that unforgiving place.

If he was manipulating everything from the beginning, creating a situation in which Arthur was forced to depend on the Frenchman.

But why?

He shook his head.

That was impossible.

He probably was getting crazy for believing a seven year old child’s story.

And yet, he just couldn’t sleep.

A need to write made him rise from his bed, and since he was not going to sleep so soon anyway, Arthur turned on the light and picked his notebook.

He wasn’t feeling like continuing the Star Wars fanfic, as if feeling like it was already complete with the crash of the “Han Solo” Character and the Sith Lord getting more and more jealous of the interaction of said new character with the Jedi Knight. Maybe he should finish the story just as matter of pride, but he had no idea of how to end it. It was a blurred vision on his mind.

So he decided to make something similar to Beauty and the Beast, but, of course, with two lesbians and the ability to control the Force (because why not? Arthur liked Star Wars. Fight him). Since he had no idea of how that would end, Arthur decided to write just one scene. A scene in which the Beauty character would confront the Beasty. Apparently, the Belle didn’t know that her love interest was a monster that used the Force only to selfish motives, and said monster was now revealing herself and chocking the Beauty.

 

* * *

 

 

**Her fingers closed around the pale neck, becoming bigger and darker and squeezing.**

**Bella was raised from the floor with abnormal force from that monster…**

 

* * *

 

 

The English teen shook his head.

Why was that story still nebulous to him?

He didn’t feel like he knew enough to continue.

Which was ridiculous since he was the author! He was supposed to know what the fuck he was writing!

But it was as if he couldn’t see the story well enough.

His mind played tricks with him, making him remember of some of Gilbert’s words.

_“The future is not a thing set in stone, Arthur Kirkland.” the albino had smirked “There are many possibilities and paths.”_

Arthur sighed.

He wished he could see the future so he could decide what the fuck to do now.

The rising sun brought a decision to his mind.

Ne HAD TO find that yellow brick path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making off of the chapter:
> 
> Yeah... I'm late...  
> Sorry.  
> There are two reasons to 1 I'm late:  
> 1) I'm in a low moment of the plot. The calm before the storm. And it is always hard to write.  
> 2) I'm kinda unmotivated with the hetalia fandom in general ._. I've been here for a long time, it is kinda hard to keep turned on by it. (I'm an old fan, it is hard to keep going from time to time, and there is no viagra for that *lame sex joke is lame*). 
> 
> I'll try to fast foward the plot more on the next chapter, to see if I can keep going. And I hope that at least the love for the story helps me to continue this for longer. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter I'm trying to draw (Al)Fred's personality a little better. Which is hard as fuck because:  
> a) he is a child  
> b) he has some weird ass amnesia  
> But I hope that his sense of truth had showed up enough.  
> I'll keep pushing for it to develop, but I really need the plot twist for that to work better. 
> 
> I don't know what else to say o.o it was a very slow chapter, I'm afraid. Thank you for your patience, I'll try to update faster next time. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you have enjoyed it! Leave a kudo and a comment if you liked this story s2
> 
> Friendly reminder that you can always help the writer by giving a comment ;D I feed on them (and I try to answer every single one of them too s2)
> 
> And if you are on tumblr, I usually give small updates on how I'm doing and if I'm writting on my fruk blog frukheaven.tumblr.com among with A LOT of FrUk Stuff =D (just for the record =3 it is easier to talk to me there).  
> (just be aware that drama can eclode on my blog from time to time)
> 
> I hope I’ll see ya in the next chapter.
> 
> Bye-bye! o/


End file.
